Crossing the Waters
by casus17
Summary: Sequel to Cross Jurisdiction. Team NCIS heads to Atlantis and ends up stuck in the middle of a very Atlantean style crisis...Teammate will battle teammate while around them Atlantis itself falls victim to a nasty virus
1. Chapter 1

Cross Jurisdiction was Team Atlantis, on Earth in a mostly NCIS setting – now, Team NCIS is going to Atlantis and ends up in the middle of a very Atlantean style problem.

**Author's Note:** Oh my God, this took me ages to write. I started it, I think, three or four months ago, and it just would not end, would not come together how I wanted it. It is longer than Cross Jurisdiction, and it had a bigger cast, more things to keep track of, a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo. But finally, it's finished, I'm happy, and I finally get to post again after ages and ages!

And here it is, the long awaited sequel to Cross Jurisdiction! You probably don't have to read the first one if you don't want to, but I will have small mentions of what occurred in Jurisdiction. Still, it won't mean much to this story.

It's set about mid-to-late season 5 of Atlantis and let's say, just before the end of Season 5 NCIS.

**Warning:** There are some dark scenes in this fic. Mentions of suicide, nothing too… you know. But, be warned.

**Author's Note 2:** I tried to get Ducky and Abby out to Atlantis, but my muse is a stubborn b***h. No matter how I tried, they just wouldn't appear in any way that sounded good and reasonable. And I do so like good and reasonable… as far as it can be in a sci-fi fanfic.

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CROSSING THE WATERS

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The lights came on as soon as he stepped into the room, flickering as the room used power for the first time in over 10,000 years.

Corporal Nick Ranger grinned. Then he clicked the light atop his gun off as he swept his gaze across the room, taking in the destroyed Ancient computers, the table with shattered glass atop it, the jagged edges of tubes atop it.

He was no scientist, but he figured it was some kind of lab. An Ancient lab, judging from the way it turned on when he walked inside. He wondered how long it would take Dr McKay to find way to convince the colonel that the alpha site was safe enough for scientists.

Stepping carefully, Ranger moved about the room – only one of many throughout the complex located on the other side of the planet to the Stargate – trying not to step on any broken shards of glass. He hadn't been assigned to Atlantis long, but he wasn't a stupid man. He knew lab equalled experiments and in this galaxy that usually equalled trouble.

He studied each instrument and device quickly but thoroughly, searching with a half-trained eye. Everything appeared dead, long dead, destroyed by some kind of weapon, unless he was off. Which he would readily admit was possible.

But there didn't seem to be anything of use, and, giving one last scan with his eye, took a sigh at the lack of anything interesting – to his eye, at least – and departed the lab.

The lights turned off.

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard jogged lightly through the halls of Atlantis, a small grin on his face. The Daedalus had just appeared in orbit over the floating city, with its usual supplies of… well, the usual.

Only this time, there was a little something extra, and Sheppard had practically had to beg to get it brought all the way out to Atlantis. He now owed a lot of people favours, and they weren't going to be small favours either.

The Gate room suddenly appeared, and he jogged up the stairs to find Woolsey already waiting. And the leader of the Atlantis expedition did not look anywhere near as smug as Sheppard felt as the colonel came to a jumping halt beside him.

"Looking forward to this then, Colonel," Woolsey noticed in that voice of his that actually neared dry and not as stiff as he stood.

Sheppard nodded. "I've been trying to get this to happen for a month," he told the shorter man.

"I can't believe you actually managed to get this to happen," Woolsey muttered. "Going over my head, I might add."

Yeah, he did feel kind of bad about that. But despite the fact that Sheppard had saved his life, Woolsey was a stickler for the rules. "Just following procedure, Mr Woolsey," Sheppard answered.

"Since when is having a bunch of civilians here procedure, colonel?"

Sheppard glanced at him. "We have civilians here all the time," he pointed out, trying not to be smart about this. But learning that he actually had some pull back on Earth was a small thrill, however small that pull was.

Woolsey finally looked at him, knowing exactly what smart remarks Sheppard was _not_ saying. "But not civilians that only know about Atlantis because they arrested you, colonel."

Oh, low blow. Sheppard winced, turning away. "Actually, they found out because they saved my life. Besides, our men really do need some investigative training."

"From these people?" Woolsey demanded. He sighed heavily, but Sheppard interrupted him before the balding man could go on.

"Most of our soldiers are marines. They take care of marines. Besides, the fact that they do know means we don't have to initiate any more agents into the whole intergalactic secret thing."

"All of which you told General O'Neill, I know," Woolsey muttered. He shook his head. "There's no point talking about this anyway. Are you going to partake in this training, colonel?"

Sheppard shook his head. "No, I'm just supervising. One member from each team. Rodney's ours. More wanted to, but I don't think we'd have the time, or the resources." A surprising amount wanted to do it though. Way too many people watched CSI for them not to want it. He had had to turn more than a few people away. "And a small amount of scientists, who can be pulled away from their own research to do this training."

He looked down at Woolsey, sort of feeling sorry for the man. "It's only three weeks," he allowed. "They won't be disruptive. I'll make sure of it."

"See that you do that, colonel."

Their conversation was cut short there by Chuck leaning over the banister above. "The Daedalus is ready to beam them down now, sir."

Woolsey nodded. "We're ready to receive them."

A second later white light filled the Gate room, slowly merging into four people standing before Sheppard and Woolsey.

And those four people slowly merged into four gobsmacked NCIS agents as they took in the sight around them.

Wait, make that three gobsmacked NCIS agents and one trying-not-to-looked-stunned team leader.

McGee dropped his bag as he looked around, and it thudded against the floor with his jaw as he took in the soaring roof, the sleek architecture, the advanced machinery and the Stargate behind them.

"Wow," DiNozzo muttered, eyes wide, a small smile on his face as he looked up at the control room, seeing the technicians lined there, but missing them as he looked at the building itself. "I mean… wow."

Ziva took a step back, and Sheppard grinned as he watched them, circling on the spot, trying to take everything in at once. He gave a small chuckle, and stepped towards the team, holding out his hand for the only NCIS agent who had managed to maintain some composure.

"Agent Gibbs, welcome to Atlantis."

Gibbs shook his hand, and Sheppard smiled as he realized just how awed the older man was. But he managed to hide it well. There was only the small flickering of his eyes that gave him away, as he too tried to take everything in at once.

And then he looked back to Sheppard, nodding with respect. "Colonel Sheppard. You got any coffee around here?"

* * *

DiNozzo finally slammed back to Earth… er, Atlantis, when he heard Sheppard laugh. The man looked happy – and a hell of a lot healthier than he had the last time they had seen the colonel.

Then again, the last time they had seen him, two months ago, he had been shot and nearly turned into a bug. Again. Trying not to think about it, DiNozzo stepped back up, seeing from the corner of his eye as McGee picked his bags back up.

Sheppard, still grinning – apparently at something Gibbs had said, which just didn't follow – turned to the three of them and nodded, before stepping back to stand next to a shorter, balding man who didn't look quite as happy to see them.

"Mr Woolsey, these are Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee, and Officer David. Guys… this is Richard Woolsey, commander of the Atlantis expedition."

Gibbs shook his hand, but DiNozzo was still trying to come to grips with… well, to be honest, with everything. He had only just gotten used to space travel, or rather, hyperspace travel, whatever the hell that was.

McGee had tried for three weeks to explain it, with no luck.

In any case, Tony had only just gotten used to that when the voice of Colonel Caldwell had come over the PA and told them they had arrived at Atlantis. And now… greeted with this sight… this… place. He didn't think there was a word he knew to describe it. He thought he would need a lifetime to get used to Atlantis. And even then, it might not be enough.

"Welcome to Atlantis," Woolsey was saying, and DiNozzo tried to concentrate on him. He looked like a strange little man, completely out of his depth. Then again, looks could be deceiving. He didn't doubt that if the man was in charge of all things Atlantis, there was no way he wasn't capable. "And thank you for agreeing to Colonel Sheppard's… training exercise."

Sheppard grinned innocently as Woolsey glanced meaningfully across at him. The agents shared a look, before Woolsey sighed and nodded at them.

"I have other things to deal with, but I will find a moment to talk with you all before the exercises begin," he told them, only a hint of impatience in his voice. "I'll leave Colonel Sheppard to show you around."

He walked off and the NCIS agents watched him leave. DiNozzo snorted. "What a happy guy."

"He's just worried that you're here," Sheppard told them. "Dump your luggage, I'll get a few sergeants to take them to your quarters while I give you the grand tour." He turned and motioned to three soldiers waiting nearby, before looking back at them with a grin. "You'll only have a day or so to get used to this place before we begin the training. So, first stop, the infirmary."

Gibbs looked stonily at him. "We just spent three weeks in space," he reminded the colonel. "I'd say any bugs we had were exterminated."

Sheppard shrugged. "It's just protocol. Any time someone steps on the base from space, or through the Gate, they get a physical. Just to make sure nothing hitched a ride."

DiNozzo shared a look with McGee. "Like what?" Ziva asked slowly, frowning in suspicion as they all started off the platform before the Stargate.

Sheppard gave a non-committal shrug as he took the lead. "Mainly Goa'uld. Don't worry, I doubt any of you are actually host to a Goa'uld, but it's one of those protocols that even I won't break any time soon."

DiNozzo caught up to Sheppard as they entered the strange corridors, with their metallic greens, earth browns and shimmering blues.

"So, how are you?" the agent asked, not looking at the shorter man, unable to keep his eyes off everything around him. "Looks like your shoulder healed up nicely."

Sheppard shrugged again. "Doesn't even twinge anymore," he told the man, rolling the same shoulder for emphasis. He nodded at DiNozzo. "What about you? Any lasting effects?"

There were, but you couldn't see them. DiNozzo shook his head, not about to mention the nightmares involving a certain marine hybrid, before changing the subject.

"Hey, I would have thought the rest of your team would have been here to meet us as well."

Sheppard chuckled as they all rounded the corner. "Ronon and Teyla are off world at the moment, visiting Teyla's people, the Athosians. It's their turn to look after Torren for a while. And McKay… well, he's off doing McKay things. I think he has something planned though."

Heavy footsteps warned them as McGee jogged to approach. "Uh, any chance we get to go… off world?"

Sheppard didn't even slow. "Sorry, but I doubt it. It's not exactly a walk in the park, and if something went wrong…" He looked behind him at McGee's shattered face. "Look, sorry, but just getting you here was hard enough. Woolsey's not about to let me take you off world."

Before McGee could make an argument – though it was doubtful he actually would have – they entered the infirmary, and once again the NCIS agents dropped their jaws in appreciation.

"This is your infirmary?" DiNozzo demanded. Sheppard nodded, looking around as if to spot someone.

"It's better looking than any infirmary I've ever been in," Ziva muttered. John still heard her.

"Trust me," he grinned at her. "It's exactly the same where it counts."

"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time in here," Gibbs mentioned slyly. Sheppard shrugged a little guiltily, but it wasn't him who answered.

"You have no idea," a woman spoke up as she appeared from the next room. "I'd say he was accident prone if he didn't do most of it on purpose."

"Not on purpose," Sheppard defended as the woman came to stand next to him. Tony glanced at her appreciatively. "Just -."

"Accidentally on purpose?" the woman asked with a smile, before looking at the NCIS agents, who had the feeling they knew exactly what she meant. "Hi. I'm Dr Keller."

"She's our Chief Medical Officer," Sheppard explained a little proudly, the comments of thirty seconds ago apparently forgotten.

Ziva's eyebrows rose. "Aren't you a little young to be CMO?" she asked, obviously curious.

Keller looked at Sheppard as if a point had been proven. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? Come on through, and we'll get started. It shouldn't take long."

They all followed her through into the next room where she had appeared from, and gestured to a bed. "All right then. Who wants to go first?"

McGee put his hand up, and DiNozzo took the opportunity to elbow him in the side, making the younger agent double up as the taller man held his head up proudly.

"I'll go first."

DiNozzo's mouth snapped shut as Gibbs stepped forward, taking pole position, while to the side, Sheppard laughed out loud, even more so when DiNozzo glared at him.

Keller's meaningful stare and smart words quickly shut that up. "Jeez, I wonder who that reminds me of."

"Surely you aren't talking about me," McKay suddenly interrupted, walking into the infirmary, a life signs detector bouncing in his hands. He had a sly grin on his face, and Sheppard stood up straight, not liking that look. "Cause I don't elbow anyone."

"No, I am sure you are usually the one being elbowed," Ziva told him, glancing at Sheppard to tell him she knew all too well who would do the elbowing. Despite the look of pure innocence on his face.

"Oh, ha ha," Rodney said, emphasizing it with a roll of his eyes. He looked over at McGee. "Here, catch this."

And he chucked the LSD at the man. Sheppard's jaw dropped – whatever anyone might think, those things did not just pop out of nowhere whenever they were needed – but before he could say anything a hand snapped out to snag the small box before the younger agent could do as McKay had suggested.

DiNozzo turned the beeping machine over in his hands. "What is this? Some kind of computer?"

Sheppard and McKay shared a look. "That depends," Sheppard answered. "How many little dots do you see on it."

DiNozzo looked a little worried as he counted, as if he could sense the tension in the room. "Seven. Why?" He looked up. "What does this thing do?"

"Huh," McKay sighed. "I always figured McGee would be the one."

Sheppard rolled his eyes, wondering where the scientist had gathered that assumption. "Congratulations, DiNozzo," he said. "Looks like you have the ATA gene, the one that allows you to work Ancient technology."

DiNozzo glanced at the LSD. "Is that what this thing tells you?" he asked, completely clueless.

McGee rolled his eyes and snatched the console from his team mate's hand. "No, Tony, it's Ancient technology. It's only working because you're touching it."

DiNozzo grinned slowly. "So… because it isn't working now that you're touching it, does that mean you don't have this very awesome gene?" He sounded like a kid in a candy store.

McGee on the other hand looked like he had eaten a sour lolly. "Looks like," he answered, handing the LSD to Ziva. The beeping didn't start up again, and she shrugged, before handing the console to Gibbs.

The lack of beeps told them he didn't have the ATA gene either, and DiNozzo's grin widened. "Does this mean I'm the only one with this gene?" he asked.

"Out of your team, yes," McKay answered. "But having the gene naturally means exactly squat."

"Well, not really," Sheppard broke in, feeling the start of the old argument. "It means you're much better at using Ancient technology than someone who has it because of the gene therapy."

McKay glared at him. "In any case, it doesn't mean much for you. You're not base personnel, so you won't actually be allowed near much Ancient tech. I was just curious."

Sheppard scowled at that, remembering exactly how impatient that curiosity was. "Yeah, about that, McKay. You couldn't have been a little more patient to find out which of them had the gene?" he asked as Gibbs hopped up on the table and laid back.

"What, and wait for Jennifer's test results?" Rodney demanded with a look of disgust.

"No, I was thinking you could have waited the extra five steps it would have taken to hand the LSD to McGee."

DiNozzo's head snapped up where he was looking over said detector. "What's an LSD?"

* * *

Sergeant James Holt was worried.

Not about the trek through the forest. That was all too common in the Pegasus Galaxy, especially on the bi-monthly posting at the alpha site. Making sure the place was secure, Wraith free and safe for any retreat from Atlantis, however unlikely that was, was paramount to the survival of the expedition. And this alpha site was new enough for the majority of the expedition's soldiers to believe in that completely.

So no, the hike through dense brush and towering trees that for some peculiar reason reminded him of his family's winter cabin in Canada… that was not what was stressing him out.

No, in this case it was the man striding along next to him, Corporal Ranger.

Holt had only known Ranger for nearly a month now, so there was no way he really knew the kid. But he knew him well enough to know something was wrong.

The kid kept on half-pausing, slowing his stride for a millisecond before he would continue on walking as if nothing was wrong. But in that millisecond, his whole demeanour would change. His face would become pinched and white, his teeth would grip, and his hands would tighten around their hold on the P90, and the life signs detector.

But he could think of no reason why the usually good-natured man would be so angry.

Trying not to glance at Ranger too often, Holt shifted his own grip on the gun in his hands and looked around, searching the bushes for anything that was there. Not that he really expected anything to be around. The Stargate had been quiet since Ranger had come through with Major Lorne's team with the tools and materials they needed to start on the three buildings that had been planned. That had been nearly three days ago. And they might not have had the satellite system Earth possessed, but Atlantis would have called if anything had appeared on the long range scanners or sub-space.

So there was no reason he should be feeling this anxious either.

He sighed and felt Ranger give him a glare. Not a glance, like he would usually have done. No, it was a full-blown glare.

"Got a problem?" the kid asked with a snap in his voice. Holt frowned at him.

"No," he retorted. "But what's yours?"

"None of your business."

Holt decided to ignore the disrespect, shook his head and kept on walking, not bothering to check on Ranger again. At least, he wouldn't have if the kid hadn't stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.

"Ranger?" Holt demanded, stopping when he realized he was walking alone, and turning around. "What the hell are you doing? Come on…"

He trailed off as he saw the kid taking deep breaths, knuckles white around the life signs detector, face pinched. Holt frowned, a little worried all of a sudden. He had the image of Ranger opening fire on him without warning, and the picture wouldn't clear from his head.

"Ranger, are you okay?"

The kid took another deep breath, and then nodded, though his face was still pinched and white. "I'm good. I'm fine, okay! You're not my mother, don't worry so much!"

"Fine," Holt drawled. "Come on, we've got to get back to base."

And he turned and walked off. After a moment he heard Ranger follow, though it wasn't without a few more deep breaths. And he wondered what the hell was wrong with the guy.

* * *

End of today's post, we'll get into the real meat of the story tomorrow, because I have readings I need to do for uni. Until then, good night!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Sorry, forgot last chapter. I don't own Atlantis, or NCIS… though having a flying city would be really cool

**Author's Note:** Now that I know I won't be cheating or nothing by doing this… thank you to the person who nominated Cross Jurisdiction for an SG Award! What an incredible gesture, thank you so much!

And thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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Chapter 2

Ziva David was not used to feeling out of her depth.

And she didn't right now. Not really. It was just… this place. It was huge. It was beautiful. It was like something out of her wildest dreams.

It was in another freaking galaxy.

That was the bit she was having trouble with as she wandered the hallways of the incredible city during the late night hours. DiNozzo was walking with her, but they hadn't spoken a word since joining up ten minutes ago in some random corridor. They were just walking, exploring, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that they were on a floating city from myth, on another planet, in another galaxy.

Knowing it was true was easy enough. Actually living it was turning out to be a lot harder.

So they walked in silence, just appreciating the views, the soaring architecture, and the overwhelming sense of inferiority.

Another five minutes later they both heard the loud clacks of what had to be sticks clashing with some impressive force. Sharing a look, Ziva and DiNozzo angled their way towards the noises.

They found the door just as stick hit flesh and one of the fighters let out a strangled yelp of pain.

"I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this," Sheppard muttered as DiNozzo led Ziva into the room and looked around. "You're making me look bad, Ronon."

Sheppard and Ronon stood in the middle of the room, practice swords by their legs, sweating slightly, the Colonel rubbing the back of his leg as he hopped about. Gibbs had apparently already found his way there, because he sat by the only window, leaning back, arms and ankles crossed, a small grin on his face.

"Hey," Ronon greeted as he spotted them first, giving them a raised sword. Sheppard turned, groaning as he saw them.

"Great, just what I need. More spectators to my humiliation."

Ronon grinned mischievously at his commander. "Come on Sheppard. Again."

The two of them squared off once more, while Ziva and DiNozzo went to sit by Gibbs.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Tony asked his boss as he settled down on the seat. It was surprisingly comfortable. Then again, he guessed nothing about this place really should have surprised him.

Gibbs gave him a look. "Sheppard offered to give me a better tour. We ended up here instead," he muttered, turning back to watching Sheppard and Ronon as they went at each other and the clacks of the practice swords filled the room again.

DiNozzo heard the hidden words, but didn't say a thing about it. However, despite his gruff and untouched exterior, Gibbs was just as awestruck as any of them.

"I always had the feeling McGee could sleep through anything," DiNozzo chuckled as he watched Sheppard and Ronon part, the Colonel panting slightly as he swung his wooden weapon around.

Beside him Ziva leaned forward. "No, he isn't sleeping either. He's talking with a man named Zelenka, about the technology they've discovered here."

"Never get between a geek and his toys," Tony muttered under his breath as he leaned back and crossed his arms as well, content to sit back and watch the sparring.

Or he would have if Ronon hadn't just taken Sheppard down with a sharp crack.

As the Colonel lay on the floor, groaning excessively, Ziva chuckled. "Looks like someone needs some more practice," she joked.

The Colonel's eyes shot open, and he glared at her. "Looks like someone just volunteered."

DiNozzo winced as Ziva sat back confidently. He looked to Sheppard. "You're going to get your ass handed to you," he promised with a little sympathy as the Mossad agent got to her feet and shrugged off her jacket.

Ronon chuckled at that as he offered Sheppard a hand to get to his feet. John eyed DiNozzo, trying to gauge how serious he was, before glancing at Ziva where she was warming up. He gave a shrug and then grinned in Tony's direction.

"We'll see."

Ronon chucked the wooden sword in Ziva's direction, and she caught it deftly by the fake blade. Quickly testing its weight with the ease of confidence, she swung it in a fast circle, cutting the air, before squaring herself before Sheppard.

Guessing his newest opponent was ready, he held the sword up in front of his body and rolled his shoulders. His grin deepened.

"Bring it -."

Pounding feet interrupted him, as McKay suddenly bolted through the door, panting and sweating, and obviously frantic.

"Is this why you can't answer your radio?" he demanded in between breaths, his voice high pitched. "I mean, I have to run, all the way from my lab, which is in an entire other section of the city I might add, just to find you're ignoring all calls for you so you can flex your Kirk muscles?"

Sheppard scowled at him and stood up straight. "What are you on about, Rodney?"

The scientist shook his head. "Woolsey has been trying to contact you for the last fifteen minutes! That's what I'm on about!" He puffed his chest, though it was more to breathe than any show of arrogance. "Something's happened at the alpha site. There's been an accident." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, maybe accident isn't the right word."

Sheppard's blood ran cold, and he tossed the sword to Ronon, who grabbed Ziva's at the same time, intent on putting them away.

"McKay, it's late, and you're obviously running a little low on caffeine… or maybe it's high, I can't tell with you anymore." He stepped in closer, while the NCIS agents moved so they could hear as well. "Just spit it out."

"It's one of your marines," McKay told him, his tone softening. "Corporal Nick Ranger was found dead an hour ago." The scientist glanced at the agents, and then sighed. "He was murdered."

"What?"

Five voices echoed the disbelief and made McKay pause. "Okay," the scientist said with a raise of his eyebrows. "That was just creepy."

Sheppard scowled, and turned to Ronon. "Go and get Roberts and his team to gear up," he ordered. "Grab my gear while you're there. McKay, go tell Keller to get a team ready, and I need Dr Biro on it. Gibbs." And he turned to the NCIS agents, pausing for a moment, weighing his thoughts. "Come with me."

* * *

"No! Absolutely not!"

As Gibbs watched silently from the chair, Sheppard's face pinched with anger at Woolsey's immediate refusal.

"Why the hell not?" the colonel demanded in an exasperated tone. His entire body seemed to be on the verge of trembling with his anxiety, but Gibbs understood. A murder was bad enough. A murder in your own backyard was betrayal.

But Woolsey looked shocked that Sheppard had even suggested what he had suggested. "Are you kidding me? It goes against every -."

"If you say protocol, I swear to God -," Sheppard interrupted him, before Woolsey just interrupted him back.

"Well, it does!" the expedition leader snapped, glancing at Gibbs. "They're not trained, and they're not expedition members! They're guests and their safety should be our top priority!"

"It's the alpha site," Sheppard reminded him angrily. "There's not going to be any Wraith about, and it's uninhabited. It's perfectly safe!"

"Tell that to Corporal Ranger," Woolsey told him in a soft voice, leaning down on his desk for emphasis.

Sheppard went still. "What I'd like to tell Ranger's _family_ is that we used every resource we had to find out why their son was _murdered_. Who do you think it could have been?"

Woolsey's mouth opened and closed a few times. "You don't think… No. No…it… it couldn't be one of ours."

"That's what I think – would have thought," John answered. "But there was no one else who could have killed Ranger. Look, we've scoured every inch, and the planet's uninhabited. There's been no gate activity except our guys. It couldn't have been any one else." He paused and leaned down on the table, matching Woolsey stare for stare. "We can't do this. We have trained investigators on base. Use them!"

Woolsey didn't answer for a moment, and Gibbs decided he should help Sheppard's argument out. He had, after all, seen the extent of the colonel's investigative skills when they had stolen his case two months ago.

At least, that was what he would have said if anyone had thought to ask him later. But if he was honest with himself, he really did want to step through the Stargate.

So he stood up and put his hands on his hips. "Look, Mr Woolsey, my team are not idiots. They're good at what they do, and they can take care of themselves."

Woolsey glanced at him and sighed, but still didn't say anything. Gibbs shared a look with Sheppard and continued.

"If this isn't solved quickly, and efficiently, it will be a major embarrassment to the Stargate Program and the IOA."

That got both of their attentions. Sheppard looked at him, obviously trying not to grin in triumph. Woolsey just looked panicked, but he recovered quickly enough.

"It already is a major embarrassment, Agent Gibbs," the expedition leader snapped. "But Sheppard had already sold me." He sighed again. "Looks like you get the chance to go off world after all."

Both Gibbs and Sheppard nodded, the colonel touching the radio on his ear so he could talk to McKay. "Ronon. Grab another four vests while you're down there."

He nodded again at Woolsey, who looked pale and slightly terrified before the two men left the office. Sheppard looked Gibbs up and down as they approached the other three NCIS agents. "I hope you're ready to go off world."

The others obviously heard because even Ziva got a look of excitement on her face, though hers was more malicious and confident then the boyish looks of wonder on DiNozzo and McGee, who had appeared from no where. Apparently confident in his negotiating skills, DiNozzo and Ziva had changed into the BDUs Stargate Command had supplied them with.

"Good thing I didn't get changed," McGee declared as Gibbs joined them, rubbing his hands together. "Man, this is so cool."

Gibbs gave them all a stern look. "There is nothing cool about a murdered marine, McGee." The looks immediately sobered. "Especially by another marine in an expedition millions of light years from home. Sheppard, there are some things we need before we go."

Ronon, McKay and Roberts' team appeared five minutes later, and it looked like they had found Teyla on the way. Sheppard gestured for them to follow him, before leading them down the stairs to the Stargate.

Sheppard's team met him halfway, before turning back towards the Stargate with him. McKay handed him a vest before glancing at the agents, who were just receiving some cases they had brought with them from Earth. Keller and a team of five were just arriving from the direction of the infirmary.

"Are the agents coming too?"

He sounded surprised. Sheppard smirked at him. "Why does everyone always seem shocked when I manage to talk someone into something?"

"Because you have the diplomacy skills of a guinea pig," McKay informed him quickly, before falling back to hand the vests to the agents. Sheppard scowled at him, and then at Ronon as the Satedan chuckled under his breath.

"How much do you know?" Teyla asked, breaking the mood and reminding them all of what had happened. Of the seriousness of the situation. Ronon's grin slipped and Sheppard shook his head as they paused on the platform.

"Lorne apparently didn't tell much when he dialled in half an hour ago. Just that they had found Ranger in the barracks, a knife through his neck." Sheppard looked around as the Stargate began dialling. "Okay, here's the deal first-timers. It can be a bit of a bumpy ride, but step right on through. Don't jump, don't leap, just step, because you come out just like you stepped through. Try not to hurl, because if you get it on those vests, the marines in charge of them will find you and make you clean them yourselves."

The Stargate opened then, and to Sheppard's surprise, the NCIS team didn't jump, or even flinch. Then again, by now they should have known what to expect. "Once you're through, just assemble to the side. Lorne's meeting us at the gate to take us to the alpha site." Sheppard gave a grin. "So, when you're ready… Sergeant Roberts, lead the way."

The marine team leader nodded and within a second the four tall, hulking men had disappeared into the puddle of blue. Sheppard gestured at Gibbs. "After you."

The NCIS agents barely even paused before they turned to face the event horizon and walked towards it. Sheppard watched them, waiting to see what they would do. He felt as though he could guess exactly who would step through the shimmering light first.

Gibbs didn't disappoint him, though he managed to hide the deep breath he took just before he stepped into the Stargate. Ziva quickly followed him, bracing her shoulders and holding her head high as she stepped carefully through.

Not about to be outdone, least of all by Ziva, Tony held his breath, closed his eyes and stepped blindly through the blue.

McGee paused for barely an instant, thinking quickly of exactly the words Tony would snark at him in an enthusiastic tone. You could almost see the words darting across his mind. Knowing he wouldn't live it down the entire time they were here, on Atlantis, he hurried across the threshold to another planet.

"Huh," Sheppard grunted, crossing his arms as he approached the Stargate himself. "None of them even really flinched."

Teyla smiled. "You do not think highly enough of them John, if you thought they would."

The four of them assembled in a line before the blue and Sheppard shrugged. "More hoping, really. I'd just like to gain a bit more equal footing. Being arrested by someone, and then saved by them as well tends to give them a bit of arrogance."

"Gibbs isn't lording it over you, Sheppard," McKay pointed out. "You're so paranoid sometimes."

At that the Colonel chuckled. "Just because you miss things, McKay…" He trailed off, shaking his head, sobering up as he remembered exactly why they were travelling to the alpha site. "Come on. Time's a wasting, and we have a serious problem. I'm not about to let a murderer back on my base unless it's in my custody."

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Just a short one today, more tomorrow, swear!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Sorry, this one's a bit later than usual, but it's been go, go, go since I got back from work at 6:00 - went straight to dinner, and then at dinner got conned into playing soccer for my hall, which was fun! Anyways, that's why there's no review replies either, cause I now have to study for tomorrow's classes... I'll try to catch up, but if I don't, thanks to everyone!

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Chapter 3

Gibbs watched as Sheppard's team exited the Stargate and looked around, spotting the assembled group. As they walked over, the Stargate shut down, cutting them off from Atlantis, but Sheppard and his team didn't seem too worried about it. Despite the fact that there was a murderer on this planet.

Not that Gibbs was too worried, either. Concerned, for sure. Confused, definitely. He had investigated within the marines before, of course. It was a part of NCIS' jurisdiction. And of course he had investigated marines who had committed murder, like what had happened here.

It was exactly the here that concerned and confused him though. Here, in the Pegasus Galaxy, where, by all accounts, survival depended on trusting your fellow marine. With so many enemies on so many sides, there was little you could do – if you wanted to live – except trust your fellow marine. _Or pilot_, Gibbs thought, watching the stocky man approaching Sheppard.

A murder, of marine against marine, would be sure to send shockwaves through this entire community.

"Major Lorne," Sheppard greeted with a nod. He glanced over to the NCIS agents and then they both walked over. "I know you've been wanting to meet them. So, meet Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee, and Officer David."

Lorne looked at them long and hard, and then, after a silent moment, scowled. "They shouldn't be here. They're civilians."

Sheppard's jaw tightened as Gibbs went still, and McKay's mouth dropped wide open. "Excuse me, Major?" the colonel demanded in a low growl.

Lorne uncrossed his arms. "Well, they are," he defended. Sheppard's eyebrow rose, and Lorne jumped as if remembering something. "Sir."

"They are trained investigators," Sheppard snapped. Beside him, Gibbs could feel Ziva itching to jump in herself and bite off the major's head, but she wouldn't jeopardise Sheppard's standing in his men's eyes. "They are here to find out who killed Corporal Ranger. And if you have a problem with that, Major, keep it to yourself."

He turned away, obviously dismissing his second-in-command by turning his back on the man. Lorne's scowl turned into a glare for a moment, before he caught Gibbs eye and turned away. Gibbs filed it away for later, but he couldn't imagine any second of Sheppard's being so aggressive. Maybe he just really did not like civilians, but he couldn't imagine any second of Sheppard's being like that either.

Sheppard apparently didn't notice. "The alpha site is a ten minute walk away." The anger could still be heard in his voice. "Follow me. Roberts, your team has our six."

The colonel set a hard pace, his eyes tight as he stalked on, and because of his long, angry strides, they reached the alpha site in well under ten minutes.

It was bare and small, typical of an army base in another country. The buildings were squat and ugly, but Gibbs knew they worked well for defence. And camouflage. The buildings almost seemed to melt into the ground.

Even half-finished as they were.

DiNozzo frowned as they approached the buildings. "Haven't finished unpacking yet?"

Sheppard looked up, as if he had been deep in thought. "What?" He glanced around at the alpha site. "Oh, yeah. We got turfed out of our last one by a winter ten times harsher than the Arctic's. Found this planet two weeks ago, moved in a week later. Major Lorne!"

The major jogged forward, quite obviously not looking at the agents, much to Sheppard's obvious disgust. But the colonel said nothing about it. "Show us where Ranger was found."

Lorne took the lead and aimed for the building on the left, and Sheppard frowned. Gibbs noticed. "What building is that?"

Sheppard sighed. "Barracks, kitchen, living quarters, that kind of thing. Place where there's always someone about. Usually. It would be hard to believe there wasn't any witnesses."

Gibbs frowned as well, but it was Ziva who asked the question. "Was Corporal Ranger not liked? If someone else is covering up for the killer…"

"As far as I know, he was well liked," Sheppard told her. Behind the three ahead, DiNozzo and McGee exchanged a look.

Seeing it from where he was helping Keller and her team with heavy cases, Ronon snorted. "Which means Ranger was definitely liked," he translated. "Sheppard knows his men better than anyone."

Sheppard gave him a withering stare over his shoulder. "Obviously not well enough," he muttered. "Otherwise there wouldn't be one lying dead in the alpha site barracks."

The doors to the barracks slammed open and Lorne held it for the rest of them. Roberts and his team waited outside, while McGee forced himself to ignore a scowl from the annoyed major.

Everyone else's attention went straight to the body on the floor.

Ranger's body lay sprawled in the centre of the barracks, tossed carelessly between the bunk beds lining the walls. He was lying on his back, pale, arm sprawled out to disturb the pool of blood. His eyes were still open, staring endlessly at the ceiling, faded and translucent. A knife was buried up to its hilt in his neck.

McKay and Teyla halted a few steps from the door, forcing the medical team to a halt as well, the scientists slightly sickened, the Athosian sad. Ronon's hand drifted over his blaster as he moved slowly, as if sensing an enemy; Ranger had been one of the few who would willingly spar the Satedan, even if he did get his butt kicked. But he kept on moving, a determined look coming over his face as he studied the rigid corpse of his friend, Keller beside him, though her face was desperately trying to show composure.

The NCIS team, accompanied by Sheppard, marched right on over, stopping only a few paces shy of the pool of blood to stare down at the body.

Gibbs immediately went on autopilot. "McGee, Ziva, sketches and photos. DiNozzo, I want you to question the marines who are stationed here."

"If any of them give you any lip, tell me," Sheppard told the taller agent, obviously thinking of Lorne, who had remained at the door. "I'll deal with it back on Atlantis." DiNozzo just nodded as he passed by on his way outside. Gibbs turned to Sheppard. "How many men are here?"

"Including Ranger, I had twenty men stationed here," Sheppard told him. "Twelve of them arrived a week ago to scout out this site. Ranger came through three days ago with Major Lorne's team, to help with scouting the rest of this planet."

"Did Ranger have any enemies?"

Sheppard laughed at the question. "Plenty. Wraith, Genii, random pitchfork wielding villagers… but within Atlantis, you don't have enemies. You can't afford to."

"How come there weren't any scientists here?" McGee piped up from where he was squatting over a case, pulling out a camera. "Isn't your expedition about discovery?"

"When it's safe, it is," Sheppard answered, trying to imagine half of Atlantis' scientists on recon missions. "But we were still setting up the alpha site. So we only had defence personnel on site."

"Not that I can imagine any of them doing it," McKay muttered. Everyone heard, and everyone ignored. The physicist scowled and spoke louder. "Come on. Can any of you honestly believe that someone attacked Ranger in cold blood?"

"Maybe he was the one who did the attacking," Ziva suddenly suggested from across the other side of the room. "There are signs of a struggle over here."

Ronon shook his head. "Ranger was a good kid. He wouldn't attack anyone."

Sheppard nodded in agreement. "He was easy going, Gibbs. I don't know of anyone who could get him angry. Certainly not angry enough to attack them, anyway." He paused and then cocked his head. "What are you going to do from here?"

Gibbs stood up straight. "Need to autopsy the body. Collect evidence. Talk to your marines."

Sheppard nodded, crossing his arms as his gaze drifted over his dead soldier. "Whatever you need, anything at all, you can have. I want this person caught as soon as possible." His voice shook with anger and bitterness.

McGee and Ziva shared a look as their boss moved closer to the colonel and looked him in the eye. "Anything, Colonel Sheppard?"

John knew something fishy was going on immediately. "I'm going to be regretting those words, aren't I?" he muttered. Louder, he added, "What do you want, Gibbs?"

Glancing at the patient medical team waiting to the side, Gibbs lowered his voice. "I need some more of my people transported to Atlantis."

Sheppard went still, while behind him Rodney and Teyla exchanged a look. "You're kidding me, right?' the colonel demanded after a moment, putting his hands on his hips and looming over the agent. "It isn't possible. Besides, even if it was, do you know how hard it was just to get _you_ here?"

"No, I don't," Gibbs admitted as if it were only a small thing in any case. "But if you want this murder solved, I need at least two more of my people brought in. Ducky and Abby."

Sheppard ran a hand through his hair. "For starters, I don't think there's any way we can get them here in time to be any help. And besides, do you have any clue what you're asking me to do?" he demanded. "No, you'll have to made do with -."

The air cracked with the too loud sound of a gun being fired, and everyone in the barracks turned to look out the door they hadn't noticed closing when they also hadn't noticed Lorne disappearing in order to be questioned by DiNozzo.

"What the hell was that?" McKay demanded loudly as he stood back up straight from where he had ducked.

No one answered him, too busy responding to the shocking sound of a single gun shot. Sheppard was already moving past him, drawing his sidearm as a second shot split the air of the alpha site, followed by shouts, inaudible through the walls of the building.

Ronon, Teyla and the NCIS team trailing him, the rest behind the agents, Sheppard shouldered his way out of the barracks and out into the daylight where marines milled about in ordered chaos, half with their guns out, the others moving towards the centre of the alpha site proper as they reached for their weapons.

Sheppard led the way as they all followed. It didn't take long to reach the action, the place where the shots had been fired, but it was long enough for a third shot, and, to the colonel's horror, a scream of agony.

"Put the gun down!" someone shouted as Sheppard barged his way through his soldiers. The majority of them stood in a solid circle around two men the colonel couldn't identify yet, and, if he had looked at their usually calm faces, he would have seen their confusion, their uncertainty, their awkwardness.

But in the one moment he could have seen all those things, Sheppard identified the two men in the middle of the circle; one lay on his back, paling already, a pool of blood mixing with the dirt he lay in. The other stood over him, pistol pointed down at the unconscious marine's head, hands quivering with rage. Sheppard knew the former was a Sergeant Holt.

The other was Lorne.

"Major!" Sheppard barked, trying not to let the blow to his gut show in front of his men. "Put the gun down."

He said it calmly, slowly, purposefully, but Lorne's head just whipped up to glare at him. Sheppard stared right into his eyes and found only fury, and rage, and a strange, almost terrifying calm that could only be found in the midst of seething wrath.

"Or what, _Sheppard_?" Lorne hissed, spit flying from between his sneering lips. The emphasised disrespect made one or two marines step back. "You wouldn't shoot a fellow officer, would you?"

Sheppard couldn't help but flinch, knowing exactly what the deranged major was referring to. He gave a growl to cover. "Major, put the weapon down." He could practically see Holt's life draining away, while behind him Keller was all but itching to help the marine. "I'm not the one who just shot an innocent man."

He probably shouldn't have goaded Lorne, whose scowl was so dark it almost shadowed his eyes. Almost. "I'm just cleaning up a mess," he spat. "No need to bring your pet civilians into it!"

Behind him the 'pet civilians' shifted, but they didn't say anything. Everyone there knew that the only person who could possibly talk Lorne down was doing everything in his power to do so.

"What are you saying, Lorne?" Sheppard demanded, not liking the implication behind those words. Had Lorne been the one to kill Ranger? Or had he just shot Ranger's killer? Watching his usually stoic and dependable second, John could almost believe it the former. "Do you know who killed Corporal Ranger?"

Within a second Lorne's rage shifted into overdrive, and the gun moved from Holt's barely moving chest to Sheppard's suddenly erratic heartbeat. "Shouldn't it be obvious by now?" the Major shouted furiously. Half a dozen guns clicked around the circle, and Lorne smirked. Sheppard had never seen Lorne smirk.

"Hey, just take it easy, Major," Sheppard tried to calm, not liking a gun pointed at him in the best of times. Not that a gun pointed at him was ever the best of times. He held up his own weapon, though nobody else dropped theirs. "Come on, we should talk about this, before you do something, er… stupid."

More stupid he meant, and hearing the silent remark, Lorne's smirk flipped instantly into a glare. "Stop telling me what to do!" he snapped. "I'm trying to help out, and here you are judging me! I don't know why I even bothered!"

He ended in a scream and took a big stride forwards, tensing, purposeful, bringing the gun up to Sheppard's forehead before John could even acknowledge the fact that his second was about to kill him. Before anyone else could even blink.

Nearly anyone.

Before Lorne took a second step, red energy encased him. He went tense, almost seizing as his entire nervous system was overloaded by the energy beam from Ronon's gun. And then the major dropped to the ground in a crumpled pile.

Everyone moved as soon as Lorne was on the ground. Keller and two of her nurses rushed to Holt's side, plugging the bleeding bullet hole with a quickly grabbed bandage. Three marines moved to stand over Lorne, never lowering their guns, keeping them trained on the major even if he was unconscious and would stay that way for some time. One of them nudged him – perhaps a little too hard – just to make sure Ronon's blaster hadn't malfunctioned or something, before a third nurse knelt by the major's side.

The others lowered their weapons, though some took more time than others, sharing looks with the men who stood beside them. But within a minute every side arm had been holstered, and behind Sheppard, the NCIS agents were sharing looks, thinking exactly the same thing, the same question. What the hell was going on in this galaxy? Because if this was normal, they could be in some trouble.

Sheppard didn't even notice. He just stood there, taking deep breaths, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. What they had all just witnessed. He had never believed it would have been possible.

"John, are you okay?"

Teyla had snuck up on him, but he didn't jump. Just drew in every thought and ignored them, getting down to the sheer basics. "Of course," he told her. He shook his head. "Never thought Lorne would be one to go off the rails."

Without waiting for an answer from her, he moved forward to squat beside Keller and her helpers. "How is he?"

They didn't even glance at Lorne. The marines watching over him didn't seem to know what to do with the unconscious major. Jennifer just shook her head.

"He's not good," the doctor told him. "He got hit in the chest, right side. I think it just nicked a lung, he's having a bit of trouble breathing."

"Blood loss'll do that too," Sheppard reminded her dryly. "Is he at least stable enough to be transported? I want him back to Atlantis in five minutes, and I'm guessing you do too." He waited for her sharp nod, even though it wasn't a question. "We have a jumper here. Load him up, I'll fly you back myself."

He stood and turned away, thinking about what he had to do next. He heard one of the nurses, he though her name was Laura mutter, "Crazy bastard. I can't believe the Major just shot him like that!"

It was gruff, and bitter, and angry, but Sheppard ignored it. He was feeling a bit the same himself, if less vehement about it. He turned to one of the marines standing over Lorne. "Cuff him," he ordered sharply. "I want him on the same jumper back to Atlantis, and if he wakes up, he's not getting away. If he's responsible for Ranger's death…"

He didn't even want to say it. Couldn't say it. Turning away from where Holt was being loaded onto a stretcher, he glanced at Gibbs and his men before moving away. "Roberts! Get your ass over here."

The sergeant jogged over, his face tight and drawn. "Yessir."

"Stay here. Watch over the NCIS agents." He looked around, taking in the uneasy shifting of his men as they glanced at each other, glanced at the surrounding forest, all but looking for someone to blame. Sheppard could almost see their thoughts whirling, and when he turned back to Roberts, he lowered his voice. "If anything happens… get them back to Atlantis as quickly as you can."

Roberts raised an eyebrow, but apparently he had noticed it too. He nodded quickly. "I'll look after them, Colonel."

Sheppard didn't drop his gaze for a moment, making sure the sergeant really did understand. Roberts met his gaze, never wavering, and Sheppard knew he would do the same with his orders.

Nodding, he turned back to Gibbs, the only agent not watching the puddle jumper descending into the centre of the alpha site. "Stay here, do your thing," he told him, and, knowing the order for what it was, Gibbs' eyes tightened. But he didn't say anything, just nodded shortly, prepared – for now – to listen. Sheppard leaned in closer. "Be careful. Lorne is _not_ a killer, which means something else is going on. I mean to find out what." He paused, looked around, made sure no one was listening. "Do whatever needs to be done, Agent Gibbs."

"The rest of my -." Gibbs began before Sheppard interrupted him with a firm glare.

"No, Gibbs. Do whatever you need to, but even if I knew a way, I would not bring more people out here. Not until I knew for sure that there was no danger. Make do with what you have. If you're out here long enough, you'll learn that that's a constant in this damn galaxy."

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I know what you're thinking... hmm, cheeseburger... or is it, no, not Lorne! I know I could go a cheeseburger... right, down to study, see you tomorrow!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to all those who reviewed, but, sorry I don't have a chance to reply to everyone individually right now, gotta go cook some dinners. I will try to catch up tomorrow, but no promises...

But yeah, thank you so much!

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Chapter 4

DiNozzo stared at the space where the – what had Sheppard called it? A Jumper? In any case, he stared at the space where the round, flying ship had disappeared, unable to quell even _his_ inner geek, as small and timid and nearly dead as it was.

"Do you think I'll get a chance to fly one of those?" he asked, turning to the person nearest him. To his glee, it was McGee. "I mean, seeing as I could, if I had to."

McGee scowled at him, but it wasn't the probie who answered. "I'll tell you what, DiNozzo," Gibbs told him, coming up behind him. "Tell me what's going on here, and I'll see if I can talk Sheppard into it for you."

Ziva joined them with a smile. "You seem to be talking him into plenty as it is, Gibbs." She glanced at her team mates. "What do you want us to do now?"

Gibbs didn't even seem to think about it. "Ziva, help DiNozzo with questioning the marines who are still here." He didn't look around at the men staring over at them, wondering why the agents were still here. "McGee, you and me, we're back at the body. Dr… Biro is it?" The woman nodded, jumping slightly at being addressed. But she was the last remaining doctor, though she had one nurse with her as well. "We'll need you at the body before we can move it."

Watching his boss go with McGee and the doctor, DiNozzo grabbed the notepad from his pocket, where he had shoved it when Lorne had stormed off, hand at his holster. He had only been half way through interviewing the already angry major when the man had snapped, turned, drawn his gun and started shooting at the sergeant he had probably killed.

Hoping they didn't have another encounter like that, not without Sheppard here, DiNozzo took the lead in covering the ground to where the marines were still standing around, looking like lost, confused – but still all too menacing – pit bulls.

When they saw the two agents though, that seemed to change.

"What did you say to Major Lorne?" one marine demanded, striding forward, his face contorted into a snarl.

DiNozzo stopped, a perfectly normal response when confronted with a pissed off marine. Ziva stopped beside him, crossing her arms and mimicking Tony's glare.

"Nothing that would make him shoot someone," the agent snapped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it should have been. He was not suicidal. "Can you think why he would shoot one of his own men, Corporal…"

He was searching for a name, and the marine knew it. Smirking, the man crossed his arms and refused to answer. Ziva's eyebrows rose, and it was obvious she was getting ready to dress him down. Sheppard's command or not, she was not about to let some smart ass American marine disrespect her.

One of the other marines saved his comrade. "He's Corporal Reilly, sir," the short, stocky marine answered, scowling at the mentioned man. "And there is no reason any of us could think of as to why Major Lorne would shoot Holt."

"And you are…" DiNozzo asked, deciding to keep the notepad closed unless he needed to really remember something. These guys were anxious enough as it was around them.

"Sergeant Farrell, sir."

DiNozzo nodded. "Did Holt and Lorne have any disagreements recently? Any arguments? Anything that could make Lorne snap?"

Farrell shook his head, denying it. A few others went so far as to shift angrily, disagreeing completely, it seemed. "No, sir," Farrell told him firmly.

DiNozzo nodded. "What about Lorne and Ranger?" he asked softly. Again, the sergeant firmly denied it.

"No sir. Everyone here… I mean, you have the odd argument. Of course you do, with so many people living and working together, breathing down each other's necks twenty-four-seven. But it would never go that far. Definitely not that far."

Reilly stepped forward again. "Major Lorne is a good man," he interrupted. "He didn't kill Ranger."

"But we all saw him shoot Holt," Ziva reminded him. "Not exactly the work of a man who is right in the head."

Reilly growled and stepped forward, but Farrell stopped him before he could take more than one step, shaking his head at the NCIS agents. "You're right, ma'am. Lorne can't be right in the head, not seeing as he did shoot Holt. But the major _is_ a good man. If he shot Holt, there has to a very good reason. But I cannot believe he would kill Ranger."

Ziva nodded, knowing these men would not tell them any differently. She swept her gaze over the men behind Farrell and Reilly; a few shifted under her stare, and one refused to meet her eyes, but they held their ground, and held their friends' backs.

Catching Farrell's eye again, she shifted her own feet, drawing herself up. "Tell me about command under Colonel Sheppard, Sergeant."

They all seemed surprised at the question, standing up straight, losing some of that defensiveness. Even Tony was shocked, but he held his tongue for once, not allowing the marines to question the agents' own solidarity.

"What's that got to do with Ranger's death?" the sergeant asked cautiously, suspiciously. Ziva held his curious stare.

"Just answer the question."

Farrell took a moment to answer. "It's different," he admitted, shifting uneasily. "But he's a good commander. For Atlantis, he's a great commander. Just don't tell him I said so. The colonel pretends to have an ego the size of Texas," he added with a small grin.

Ziva didn't share the smile. "He always seemed far too laid back, too easy going to be in charge of something as important as Atlantis."

Tony only just stopped himself from groaning beside her. Reilly didn't hold himself back though, growling again, and glaring down at her. Even Farrell looked angry about the suggestion.

"No, ma'am," he told her in a hard voice. "He isn't. He keeps a tight rein, or at least, tight enough. Everyone knows their place on Atlantis." And by everyone she was sure he meant the soldiers. She very much doubted McKay understood where he sat in the great scheme of all things military. Farrell continued. "He trains us hard, but he trains us well. He might be easy going, but he's not as laid back as he likes to make out."

Ziva nodded again, backing down. "Thank you, sergeant. If there's anything else you need to tell us, please do."

She grabbed DiNozzo's arm and all but dragged him away. Only when they were out of ear and eye shot of the marines, did she let go. Tony halted instantly, his face incredulous.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" he demanded. "Those marines are obviously wired on something!"

"Exactly," Ziva told him calmly, knowing he would understand when she explained it. "At the moment they aren't acting like most marines I have met."

"Yeah," DiNozzo snorted, as if it were another of those most obvious things in the world. "One of their men is dead, and another's close to it."

"I know that!" she snapped. She wasn't an idiot. "But come on. This is an entirely different galaxy, Tony. These men are better trained than this. Sergeant Farrell was not angry, and disrespectful, like Corporal Reilly. I did not expect them to be any different from Farrell, under Sheppard, but I had to make sure."

"Why?" It was said with some snap, but at least DiNozzo was calming down as he began to understand.

"You heard what Sheppard said to Gibbs. About something being wrong here. I had to make sure he was not just being biased like most officers are about their men." She looked at the corner they had just rounded, as if she could see around it and watch the marines still there. "But I believe him now, when he says that something really is wrong here."

* * *

"There are more signs of a struggle over here."

Gibbs looked up from studying Ranger's body – or rather, from studying Dr Biro who was studying Ranger's body, and making notes – and glanced over at where McGee had been covering the entrance and the first few bunks.

Standing, he walked over, relieved that McGee had finally seen what Gibbs had noticed when he had walked in. It took years to become as good as he was, but the probie was well on his way.

It was just times like this that he wished McGee would be on his way a little faster.

McGee looked up as his boss came over, and pointed at the bunk nearest the door. The blanket on the bottom bed was dishevelled, a magazine tossed aside, laying carelessly on the floor and open at the centre. "I think someone was dragged off this bed in his downtime."

Gibbs thought it as well as McGee, but just nodded, letting the probie learn. Encouraged, Tim walked forward between the bunks, to the centre, picking up on even the smallest detail, stepping over the bloody footprints. "There was a bit of a fight, small enough not to attract any attention." From anyone with a loose bias, in any case. "One of them got knocked over into this bed."

He was over the other side of the room, before one of the bunks. He pointed to the floor, where a black scrape marked the white linoleum from a small, round indent in the floor to under the black stopper of the leg of the bunk bed. It had been moved, not far, but far enough to matter.

"Good," Gibbs acknowledged. "What happened next?"

McGee looked around. "I don't think it was a long fight," he admitted, looking over to where Ranger lay still on the floor, rigor well and truly set in. Dr Biro was hardly even looking at the body now, listening in on the two agents and their conversation. "This bed, and the one over there have been moved as well," he said, indicating the bed next to the one they stood at, and the one on the other side, two beds up. "So they fought at least a few more feet. The other marine got in the killing blow, Ranger fell, and bled out."

Gibbs nodded, agreeing with the theory. But there was one thing McGee had missed out on in his initial theorising. Walking back to the first bed, Timothy frowned. "So who does this bed belong to?"

Dr Biro had been listening with some interest. "Isn't it Corporal Ranger's?" she asked in a somewhat nasal tone. Gibbs swallowed a chuckle at the good doctor's predictability.

"Not every dead person is the person who was attacked, doctor," the older agent instructed the woman. He bent over the bed, looking through everything. McGee had already photographed everything, so he moved it aside, relying on memory and technology both. Carefully, but with some speed, he sorted through the belongings, looking for a name, for a second marine involved in this whole debacle.

"Aha," Gibbs drawled slowly, standing up straight when he found an envelope under the pillow. When he pulled it out, he skimmed over the words – at a distance – before handing it to McGee.

"A love letter," the younger man said out loud, sounding kind of surprised. "Dear Jimmy."

"Not Jimmy," Gibbs declared, holding out the envelope for McGee to see the addressee. "Sergeant James Holt. The man Major Lorne shot."

"Oh my God," Dr Biro exclaimed from where she was kneeling on the floor. Gibbs personally didn't think it was that far of a leap. Holt had to have something to do with this, unless Sheppard had really bad taste in second in commands.

McGee seemed to share his opinion, turning to the doctor. "Actually, we should have guessed. It had to be either Lorne or Holt, nothing else fits."

"What?" Dr Biro asked, looking up. It took the two agents a moment to realise she had turned back to her study of Ranger's body. "No, I wasn't talking about that, though it is strange, I mean, did Holt kill Ranger and Lorne knew, or did Lorne kill Ranger, and Holt -."

"We know, doctor," Gibbs interrupted before she could get carried away. She looked the type of person who let her words run away with her. "So what's got your back up?"

"What? Oh. I just took Ranger's temperature. It's extremely elevated."

Moving over to her, McGee frowned at his boss. "He only died an hour or so ago." Probably an hour and a half, Gibbs thought.

Biro gave him a disparaging look. "I'm aware of that, thank you, Agent McGee. But his temperature is at 101.2"

Even Gibbs' eyebrows rose. "He was running a fever?"

"That's my guess. But for it to be at that point now, imagine what his temperature was when he was alive. This was one sick boy."

"Is it catching?" McGee demanded, flinching as if to take a step back.

Dr Biro shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, standing up. "But if it is, jumping about isn't going to help you any now."

* * *

The seat made a soft dull thud as Woolsey fell into it, his face pale and shocked. Even more so than it had been when Sheppard had requested that Gibbs and his team handled the investigation into Ranger's demise.

But then again, this was something else.

"Major Lorne _what_?"

Sheppard nodded tiredly as he sat down in one of the chairs opposite Atlantis' commander. The man had demanded an explanation for why one of the marines was bleeding to death, while the military's 2IC was in cuffs. Sheppard hadn't even had a chance to remove his vest, or his P90.

"The way things are looking," Sheppard continued. "Either Holt or Lorne killed Ranger, and then Lorne tried to kill Holt." _And me_. "But he isn't in his right mind. I know Lorne. I've known him for three and a half years now. There's no way he's a killer."

Woolsey shook his head. "But you said he tried to shoot you, Colonel Sheppard." Ever the man to point out the obvious at the wrong times. "In his right mind or not, it will be hard to deny he's not the person who killed Ranger. Even more so because he isn't apparently in his right mind."

Sheppard leaned forward. "I don't care. Something's going on there."

"How can you be so sure?" Woolsey demanded. "Killers hide amongst neighbours, friends, family, for years, without being detected."

"And what, Lorne just decides to snap now?" the colonel asked wryly. "No, there's more to it. Lorne wasn't acting like Lorne."

"What did Agent Gibbs have to say?" Woolsey asked, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

"Nothing, yet," Sheppard told him. "He's still at the alpha site, collecting evidence or whatever. Dr Biro's with him, and she'll autopsy Ranger's body when they bring it back here. I left Sergeant Roberts to watch over things."

There was silence for a moment, before Sheppard shook his head and stood. "I'm going to get out of this vest, and then when Gibbs gets back, we'll talk to Lorne. Do you want to be there when we do?"

Woolsey looked surprised that the colonel had offered. But he shook his head. "No. Just let me know the details when you've finished." His jaw tightened. "I want this sorted out as quickly as possible, Colonel. The last thing this base needs is a killing spree."

* * *

I'll try to post tomorrow night, but I've got school, then work, then soccer, then school, and then study, so we'll see. No promises on this but.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** G'day lovies! So, guess who's back... well, okay, most, if not all of you are intelligent enough to have figured that out already! Yes, the answer is me. Man, yesterday was hectic, stupid busy-ness. And we didn't even win the soccer! But the lecture was fun. Well, Arts student who loves history fun so boring for ordinary people...

Anywho, I'm gunna shut up now, cause I'm in a talkative mood, and I'm sure most of you just skip to the good bit anyways, and ignore this randomly long and completely useless sentence that I'm writing right now... yeah?

Um, here's chapter five...

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Chapter 5

Someone had put Lorne in the isolation room. Sheppard didn't remember issuing that order, but it was a good idea, he thought, looking down at his second in command. Lorne was awake, in half the time it usually took for someone to rouse from one of Ronon's blaster stuns. And he was pacing, sometimes breaking into a run, hitting things, slamming his fists against the wall. He had already destroyed the computers and bed in the round hole, and now he had to be content with the walls and door.

Not that content was a word Sheppard would have used for the enraged man.

He shifted as he looked down, studying the major, wishing there was something he could do. But he couldn't think of anything he could do. Lorne was… not right.

Suddenly Lorne stopped, and he looked up, right at the observation window. Right at Sheppard. And he sneered.

"I should have known you'd have something to do with this, Sheppard!" Lorne shouted, stalking over, craning his neck. Sweat streaked the major's face. "Let me out! Let me out, god damn you!"

Feeling helpless, Sheppard just backed away, keeping a hold of Lorne's gaze until he had disappeared from sight. Then he turned, rubbed his eyes and left the observation room.

McKay was waiting just outside the door, looking nervous, on edge, rubbing his hands together. He jumped when he saw Sheppard.

"How is he?" the scientist demanded, falling into place beside the colonel. "Has he said anything? Did he do it?"

"I don't know, yes, and I don't know." Sheppard sighed. "But what he does say is angry, and threatening."

McKay frowned. "That's not like Lorne at all."

John gave him a dry look. "Jeez, you think, McKay?" He shook his head. "I've said it already, there's something wrong with him."

"What, though?" Rodney asked, rubbing his hands again. "What, some kind of disease? Aren't there diseases that change someone's personality? But then, those usually occur over years, and I spoke to Lorne just before he left, and he was fine. We had a joke, shared a laugh, he was good as gold."

Sheppard stared at the onslaught. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "I mean, you're kind of hyperactive. Even more than usual."

"I'm fine," McKay claimed with a wave of his hand. Then he stopped. "Oh, God, am I? What if I have whatever Lorne has? What if -?"

Sheppard stopped him before he could get overwhelmed. "McKay, quit it! We don't even know if there _is_ something wrong with Lorne." And there was an admission he hadn't wanted to make. He scowled. "Besides, if he had something catching, don't you think Atlantis' quarantine would come into effect? Just… stop it, McKay. Okay!"

Rodney turned to him, a flash of annoyance coming over his face, but before he could say anything in retort, their radios crackled to life.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Squashing his frustration at McKay's hypochondria, Sheppard touched his radio. "Sheppard here, what is it Chuck?"

"The NCIS agents are back."

At last. "Tell them to meet me in the conference room, and not to talk to anyone else." Tapping the radio off, he looked at McKay again. "Go back to your lab, do some work, take your mind off what happened. I'll let you know what we find out," he added before the scientist could say a word.

McKay closed his mouth with a snap, before backing down and nodding. Turning, the man walked in the other direction. Sheppard watched him disappear before turning himself and heading for the central tower.

* * *

Gibbs was waiting patiently when he arrived, but Woolsey was pacing, and to Sheppard's surprise, so was DiNozzo. Ziva sat on the table, McGee on the chair beside her. Gibbs sat across from the probie, but he stood up when the colonel appeared.

"So, what's going on?" Sheppard demanded as the doors closed. He didn't want to wait any longer.

"Ranger was in a fight before he died," Gibbs began, leaning back against the table. "With Sergeant Holt, the man Lorne shot."

"I know who Sergeant Holt is, thank you Agent Gibbs," Sheppard reminded him dryly. "So what does Lorne have to do with it?"

Woolsey gave him a surprised look. "What I'd rather know is if Sergeant Holt killed Corporal Ranger, Colonel Sheppard."

"That seems likely," Gibbs answered. "And I don't know what Lorne has to do with it. But there was someone watching the fight. And Ranger started it."

"Hang on, what?" Woolsey interrupted, looking confused. Sheppard knew how he felt. "Just… start from the start."

"The start is, we have no real idea what happened," DiNozzo suddenly said before Gibbs could answer. He looked annoyed about it as well. He stopped pacing, and turned to the group.

His boss gave him a look, which quickly shut him up before he could speak again though. And then Gibbs continued, albeit with less gusto than before.

"It's true that without a witness who will come forward, we won't ever know for sure if it's the truth," Gibbs admitted. "But we know that there was a fight in the barracks. We know that Holt was in the room at the time. We know that Holt was dragged off his bed. And we definitely know that Ranger lost the fight, due probably in some part to the fact that he was suffering from a fever."

"Fever?" Sheppard asked, thinking back to McKay's hypochondria. Was it just hypochondria? "He was sick?"

"He had a temperature of 101.2 an hour and a half he was killed. Unless that's normal – which it isn't," Gibbs added. "Then yes, he was sick."

"Very sick," McGee added, to some amusement from DiNozzo.

"We also found traces of a third person who was in the room when the fight occurred," Ziva interjected, sliding off the table. "There were two distinct sets of bloody shoe prints, neither of which belong to Ranger's boot."

"So we have a witness," Woolsey surmised.

"Lorne?" Sheppard asked, shifting on his feet, looking from Gibbs to Woolsey. Gibbs shifted as well.

"Until we check his boots, we won't know. And we need to check Holt's as well." The agent crossed his arms. "I think we should talk to Major Lorne now."

Sheppard winced. "He's not exactly… in a cooperative mood right now."

"Doesn't matter," Gibbs told him. "We need to speak to him."

Sheppard nodded slowly. "I'll get Sergeant Roberts to go prep him, then."

"Roberts stayed at the alpha site," McGee said before Sheppard could even touch his ear piece. "He said something about making sure nothing else happened. He sent Mills and Peterson with us instead."

"I want them all back here," Woolsey said before anyone else could speak up. "I want the alpha site put off limits."

"That would be a good idea," DiNozzo told them, lifting his head. "Those guys are pretty shaken up by this murder."

"Why, thank you, Agent DiNozzo," Woolsey snapped. "Maybe when you're leader of this expedition, you'll make the same good decisions." He tapped his radio. "Banks, contact the alpha site. I want everyone back."

Sheppard looked away from his own boss and turned to the lead agent. "I'm coming in with you, to talk to Lorne. And I don't want to hear anything on the contrary," he added as Gibbs' mouth opened. The man shut it with a snap, looking a little put out.

"If you insist," Gibbs surrendered after a moment. "DiNozzo, go see what Dr Biro has found. Ziva, you've got the evidence we brought back from the alpha site. McGee, collect Sergeant Holt's gear, and see how he's doing."

"He's in surgery right now," Sheppard relayed as he got the room doors opened. "But there might be news. Just check the infirmary, that'll be where his clothes and gear is anyways. Gibbs, you coming."

They split up at the platform before the gate, and as they stalked down a hallway, Sheppard glanced at Gibbs. "I wouldn't count on much," he warned as they walked towards the isolation room. "I wasn't kidding when I said about Lorne not being cooperative."

Gibbs gave him a sidewards glance. "How not cooperative?" he asked.

They had reached the doors to the isolation room by then, and Sheppard chuckled as he borrowed a strange looking gun off one of the marines on guard. After a moment Gibbs recognised it as a stunner. His eyebrows rose.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed. "That not cooperative." He waved his hand in front of the door panel and led the way in.

Lorne turned on them immediately, stalking over, marching over, trying to loom even though he was shorter than both men. "What the hell is the meaning of this?" he demanded, eyes shifting quickly to the closing door, as if he had been thinking of making a break for it. That thought, if it had existed, was discarded, and Lorne came to a sullen stand before the two men. "Let me the hell out of here!"

"Back away, Major," Sheppard growled, fingers twitching on the Wraith stunner. "Now!"

Lorne took a few small steps back, sneering as he glanced between Sheppard and Gibbs. "Just let me out."

Sheppard's eyes widened at the order, and then he snorted. "Not likely, Lorne. We need to ask you a few questions before we even _think_ about it." Even then, Sheppard knew it was likely Lorne's career was over.

Unless McKay was right, and there was really something wrong with him, physically.

Whatever the case, Lorne's sneer deepened, and he glanced at Gibbs again. "We, huh? So, what are _your_ questions, Colonel?"

Sheppard shifted in annoyance. "Temper that tongue, major," he ordered with a snap. "There's always the brig."

Lorne's eyes flashed dangerously, but he took another step back. "So," he said after a moment, visibly backing down. "What did you want to ask me, Agent Gibbs?"

"Where were you when Corporal Ranger was killed?" the agent asked, tempted to cross his arms, but thinking he needed to stay ready. He could feel Sheppard still twitching on his stunner, and knew that in Atlantis, he couldn't just go by his own gut feelings, he had to trust the guts of others as well.

Now there was a nearly foreign concept.

Lorne shrugged. "Doing my job. I can't tell you what specific task. Can you tell me precisely when Ranger died?"

He couldn't, not when Ranger's temperature was so out of the ordinary. "Were you the one to find him?"

A shift of Lorne's feet. "No. Lieutenant Marsh came to find me, tearing his hair out," he added with a small chuckle before he had realized what he was doing. "Told me he'd found Ranger dead on the ground of the barracks."

"Was there anyone else in the barracks?"

A pause, a flick of his eyes, but no other movement. "No," Lorne growled. "Not that I know of." Another flick of his eyes, meaningful this time, aimed at Sheppard. Gibbs caught it easily. Not only was he lying, but Lorne wanted Sheppard to realize it, to realize the truth.

If Sheppard caught it as well, he gave no indication. He also kept his quiet. Gibbs waited for a moment, then turned his complete attention back to Lorne.

"Did Ranger have any enemies?" he asked.

"Haven't you gotten the idea, yet, Agent Gibbs?" Lorne demanded. "Ranger had plenty of enemies. Just none within Atlantis itself. Don't you get that?"

"What about just recently? Did Ranger come to you complaining about anyone?"

Lorne sneered again. "No."

"Did anyone come to you with a complaint about Ranger?"

A pause, a shift again. "No."

"You're lying to me, major," Gibbs told him instantly, frustration boiling in his stomach. "It was Sergeant Holt, wasn't it?"

"No!" Lorne shouted angrily. "Don't you get it? You have no right to meddle with Atlantis! I took care of Ranger, okay, we don't have any need for you!"

This wasn't getting him anywhere, Gibbs decided. Lorne was too defensive, too angry, too bitter. "What shoe size are you, Major?"

That surprised the shorter man. "What? Why the hell does that matter?" he asked, obviously confused.

"Just answer the question," Gibbs ordered. "Actually, better yet, I'm borrowing your shoes."

Lorne took three big steps back. "You're not touching me," he snarled.

"Major," Sheppard warned, stepping forward. "Just give the man your shoes."

"No!" the major snapped, shaking his head vehemently. "Sheppard, how can you even consider what he's trying to do?"

"He's trying to get to the bottom of a murder, Major," the colonel growled. "Don't make this worse than it already is."

"No!" Lorne shouted. "I took care of a huge problem for you, and this is how you repay me? All this suspicion, and blame?"

"You shot Holt!" Sheppard snapped back, his voice rising as well. "Not to mention the possibility that you killed Ranger as well!"

Lorne's face paled, eyes wide like Sheppard had just slapped him. "You really believe that?" the major demanded in a soft, dangerous growl. "You really think I would?"

Obviously struggling with the hurt on his officer's face, Sheppard shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Lorne. But you're not helping your own case."

And just like that the man was back to angry. "I should have known!" he snarled. "Should've known you'd -."

A siren sounded out around the city, followed by four more in quick succession, cutting Lorne off. All three men looked around, as if the walls of the isolation chamber could have given any indication of what the klaxons were screaming for.

The closed door made a shor thudding noise behind them, and Sheppard spun as he recognised the sound of it locking them in. And from out in the hallway came the noise of other doors banging shut, sealing people inside whatever corridor of room they happened to be occupying.

Quarantine.

Hoping against hope that this was just McKay screwing around with the system, Sheppard turned back to the other two men, about to let Gibbs in on what was happening.

Only to find a blur in the shape of Major Lorne rushing at him, rage in his eyes the only distinctive thing as they both crashed to the floor.

* * *

Uh oh...


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Heya, sorry there was no postage last night, I got a little distracted... okay, it was by the Sound of Music, and if you know me at all, you'll know how strange that sounds, but I'm a sucker for musicals and leidenhosen... if that's not the right spelling, just pronounce if phonetically (same with that word, is there an 'e' in it? Another one, I mean? Jeez, some writer I am) and you'll get what I'm trying to say. Maybe. I'm not really. A sucker for leidenhosen, I mean. Just musicals.

Um, anyways... story time!

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Chapter 6

Sheppard hit the floor with a jarring jolt, elbow numbing as it hit the ground, and the stunner skittered from his grip across the isolation room floor.

Instantly he slammed his knee upwards, and he heard Lorne groan as the joint impacted with his gut. The major moved away slightly, and Sheppard tried to slide in the opposite direction himself.

But Lorne was having none of that. Giving an animalistic growl, he got to his hands and feet, skidding on all fours as he loped forwards. Sheppard tried to get away, somehow unable to find his feet in the face of Lorne's onslaught, but the enraged major moved too fast, grabbing the colonel's leg and pulling him back.

A fist slammed into his face and the next thing John saw was stars. The next thing after that was another fist.

Sheppard jerked his head to the side and Lorne's fist smashed into the floor, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain and something cracked in his fist. But even that didn't seem to deter the man from his fury.

Lorne came at him again, and John, not about to let his 2IC hit him once more, sat bolt upright, grabbing the major by his Atlantis uniform and smacking his forehead into his attacker's nose.

Blood flowed from Lorne's nose instantly, but the man seemed beyond pain at that stage. Sheppard saw stars again as Lorne's fist connected solidly with his cheek.

Dazed, Sheppard fell back to the ground, astonished at Lorne's strength. Another sharp crack to his forehead removed even that vague thought, and approaching unconsciousness, John could only watch as one of the men he trusted most in the world – the galaxy – sat back and admired his handiwork with a cold sneer, before reaching down almost in slow motion with open hands.

Sheppard almost didn't hear the two sharp whistles, but he certainly saw the two blue bolts surround Lorne, making the major go rigid once again. And he certainly felt the man slump forwards, sprawling unconscious over his commander.

Taking a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Sheppard groaned, and then heaved a sigh of relief as Lorne's weight suddenly disappeared. Gibbs' face appeared and the agent offered a hand.

The colonel took it and sprung to his feet, before deciding that maybe that hadn't been the best idea when the room spun. Spreading his arms to keep his balance, Sheppard closed his eyes against his throbbing head as the world righted itself.

"Are you okay?" Gibbs asked, still holding onto him.

Sheppard didn't dare nod. "I'm guessing you stunned Lorne?" He didn't really need an answer, but the agent nodded anyway.

"He looked ready to kill you," the older man told him. Not justifying, Sheppard realized, just informing. "Once I had a clear shot, I did what I could."

Opening his eyes, John glanced at him. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, before dabbing a hand at the bleeding gash above his eye. "God, the guy did some damage. What the hell is wrong with him?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Gibbs answered anyway. "He's worried about getting caught? Getting pinned," he offered.

"That's not what I mean. Something's not right."

The agent snorted. "I noticed. After all, you've got a dead marine in the morgue." Gibbs let go of him upon seeing him able to keep his balance, and walked over to where he had rolled Lorne away. "And I'm guessing you need the infirmary," the agent surmised, bending over to grab the major's boots. "If we can get out of here."

Suddenly remembering the quarantine, Sheppard groaned and staggered over to the door, where he could hear the two marines outside pounding on the door. No doubt worried at hearing the unmistakable sounds of their leader getting his ass handed to him by a hyped up second.

Before he could even get half way there though, the doors swished open and one of the marines stumbled forward in the midst of banging on the doors once more. Quickly righting himself, the corporal gaped at the sight that met his eyes.

"Colonel… are you all right?"

Getting sick of that question fast, Sheppard met the corporal's gaze. "Just dandy, Reynolds," he answered as he left the isolation chamber, Gibbs hot on his heels. "I want this detail doubled."

"Yes sir," Reynolds saluted while his fellow guard tapped his radio and called for two more marines. Sheppard ignored it as he stalked away, headed for the infirmary.

Being injured, however, didn't mean he didn't have work to do. Gibbs still beside him, John tapped his own radio.

"McKay," he drawled. "I want to know what the hell is going on."

The response was instantaneous. "Yeah, you and everyone else in the damn city," the astrophysicist snapped. "Just give me a minute, will you! I'll be at the conference room in five minutes with some answers.

Wincing as he broke the drying blood over the bruising cut in his cheek, Sheppard tried not to share a look with Gibbs. "Better make that the infirmary, McKay."

"What?" the man demanded, his tone changing instantly. "Why, what happened?"

"Just do what I say, Rodney! Be in the infirmary in five minutes, and you'd better be able to tell my why this city quarantined us, or there'll be hell to pay. Sheppard out." He turned a corner only to see Gibbs studying him out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Nothing," Gibbs denied in a voice and with a look that obviously indicated that something was 'what' despite his denial. "I'm going to find my people, get them to do some of Abby's work and analyse these boots. I'll let you know what I find."

He peeled off before John could say a word, but the colonel watched him go before walking on himself. Even with his head pounding, he walked deep in thought, wondering what the hell exactly was going on. Wondering what was with Lorne, why the man had attacked him, and Holt, and maybe Ranger. Wondering why the city had locked itself down for barely a minute before deeming the corridors safe once more.

Wondering if he had been right, and something a whole lot worse than murder really was going on.

* * *

NCIS had been allocated a small lab in which they could set up to do their job, and it was in here that Gibbs found Ziva already going through what looked to be Ranger's gear. Judging by the blood caking the neck line of the military jacket of Atlantis, that was.

"Found anything?" Gibbs asked as he entered without warning.

Ziva didn't even jump. "We already knew neither of the bloody shoe prints belong to Ranger," she told him, looking up from her job. "Apart from that… there's only one set of fingerprints on the blade that was in Ranger's neck, and they belong to him. Apart from that, there's not much. Tony's waiting for Dr Biro to finish her autopsy, which should be any minute now. How did the interview with Major Lorne go?"

"He attacked Sheppard." _And confused me._ "I had to stun him to get him to stop."

Ziva's eyebrows rose. "I'm assuming the colonel is okay. So, did Lorne do it?"

Gibbs chucked her the boots as he sat down on a stool. "You tell me."

She caught them deftly, with a slow smile. "What, no infamous Gibbs' gut feeling this time?" Her smile faltered as Gibbs gave her a hard stare. "I'll just analyse these."

Footsteps announced DiNozzo's appearance before the man turned the corner into the room. "Hey, I just saw Sheppard and he looked like he'd had the crap kicked out of him."

"Punched, actually," Gibbs told him. "Major Lorne didn't agree with being held in the isolation chamber. What have you got, DiNozzo?"

Tony winced slightly. "Not much. Dr Biro's done a quick autopsy, she didn't find anything out of the ordinary except the virus, which we already knew. She's running bloods now to 'find the little bugger', and said something about comparing the virus with the Ancient database. Temperature was still pretty elevated for a stiff, but at least this time it was lower than a normal human temp. Biro's going to go over everything again, this time with a fine tooth comb. She's also running the blood on the blade, see if she can get lucky and find a second set of DNA. Lorne punched Sheppard?"

Gibbs nodded, but before he could say anything, Ziva made a small sound of surprise.

"Lorne's boot doesn't match," she told them, swivelling on her stool. In the background they all heard running feet. "We're looking for another person."

Right on cue, McGee slid around the corner of the door and into the room. "I have a fair idea of where to start," he told them, panting, trying to catch his breath. "I just went to the infirmary, to grab Holt's things? His shoes are missing. Someone's stolen them."

The three older agents shared a look, before DiNozzo growled. "Someone knows more than they're letting on."

Gibbs studied his senior field agent for a moment, before nodding, thinking hard. "And I think I know who it is."

* * *

"I can't believe the major did this," Keller muttered as she ran the last stitch through the gash in Sheppard's eyebrow. "He's such a nice guy."

John tried not to wince as she finished the stitches off. "I know. Whatever the NCIS agents think, there's something not right with Lorne. There's something very wrong with him."

He knew the agents were reluctant to put everything that had happened, or even just what had happened with Lorne, down to 'something being wrong'. The investigators were too intent on what was possible on Earth, with natural, normal things, like motive, and opportunity.

They didn't know how the Pegasus Galaxy worked.

"Like what?" the doctor asked, standing upright, frowning in thought. It wasn't a denial, but a firm question: she wanted this sorted out as soon as possible as well.

"I don't know," Sheppard admitted, blinking hard a few times to test out the stitches. "But Gibbs reckons Ranger attacked someone. And Dr Biro says he had some kind of virus, or disease. Maybe Lorne has it as well."

Keller nodded slowly. "There are diseases that can alter a person's personality," she told him, before frowning. "But none that work so quickly. I checked out both Lorne and Ranger before they went to the alpha site and they were both fine."

"There aren't any that work quickly on _Earth_," Sheppard reminded her, leaning forward slightly. "But here in the Pegasus Galaxy they have a childhood version of Alzheimer's."

"It was a little more complicated than that," she defended with a deeper frown. Then she softened. "But you're right. I'll check out Lorne, see if he does have a virus."

"No," John told her firmly. "I don't want you anywhere near Lorne. I'll get one of the marine medics to draw some blood." He winced again as he touched bruise forming on his cheek. "This virus though… do you think it's contagious?"

"It's possible," Keller admitted. "But I doubt by air. Was there anyone else at the alpha site showing similar… symptoms?"

"Not that I know of," Sheppard told her. "But we weren't there long, and I didn't get the chance to speak to any of my men."

"But only Major Lorne went… well, homicidal. I think if it was an airborne pathogen more people from the alpha site would be affected."

Sheppard stared at her. "So the quarantine before was…"

"A computer glitch," McKay's voice suddenly called from the infirmary doors. Sheppard and Keller looked over, spotting the scientist as he marched into the room, wincing as he saw his friend's face.

"Ouch. Did you get hit by a truck or something?"

"Funny, Rodney," Sheppard snapped dryly. "Do you have something a little more than 'computer glitch'?"

McKay's face fell slightly as he stopped before the two of them. "No," he admitted wearily. "I don't know how, or why, but the system just… flickered."

"Flickered?" Keller repeated, stunned.

"Is that the correct terminology?" Sheppard asked facetiously, to the obvious distaste of his friend.

"No, it's the terminology some intelligence deprived colonels would understand," the scientist snapped. "I don't know what happened, Sheppard. I've got Zelenka going over everything again, trying to find out, but we _just don't know._ I wish I did, but I don't. I've already had to explain that to Woolsey, but I didn't think you'd act so childish about it!"

Feeling guilty instantly, Sheppard backed down. "Sorry, Rodney. I'm just…" He shrugged.

McKay sighed. "I know, John. We all are." He glanced at the bruises on the colonel's face and winced again. "Jesus, what happened to you?"

"I was with Lorne when the comp-… the quarantine hit." Whoops, almost restarted the argument. "Added that to the fact I'd managed to piss him off… He decided to hit me a few times."

Keller stood up straighter as if remembering something. "Speaking of any possible virus," she muttered. "Colonel, I'm going to take some blood, analyse it. I doubt it's airborne, but if Major Lorne scraped his knuckles hitting you…"

"You think I might be infected?" Sheppard demanded, worry twisting his gut.

Keller shrugged as she prepared the needle. "I'd rather know than wait and find out," she told him. She obviously had more to say but Rodney cut her off before she could continue.

"Wait, I thought we decided it wasn't a virus doing all this?"

"We don't know, Rodney," Keller explained. "Like I was about to say, it's better to be safe than sorry. If Ranger did have a virus that made him… I don't know, and Major Lorne had the same virus when he shot Holt…"

"Oh, God, what if we're all infected?" McKay demanded. "Jennifer, what are the symptoms, I mean, I was on that alpha site same as everyone -."

"Rodney, stop!" Keller commanded before Sheppard could even open his mouth. "For starters, we don't know that a virus is the problem here. Ranger could have been sick from anything, Lorne might be as healthy as a horse, and the problem could just be that we're all terrible judges of characters." They both missed Sheppard's slight grimace. "This is all purely conjecture based on Ranger's temperature."

Sheppard was sure there was more to it than that, but he didn't want McKay to start worrying anymore than he already obviously was. He just let the doc do her job.

"Colonel Sheppard, come in."

Sighing, and getting sick of being on call every minute of every crisis, Sheppard tapped his radio. "Sheppard here, how can I help you, Banks?"

The technician responded immediately. "Ah, sir, we've got a problem."

"You mean another one?" John demanded. "We've got too many to deal with as it is. What is it?"

"It's the alpha site, sir," Amelia told him, worry palpable even over the radio. "We've lost contact with them. We've tried everything, but they're not responding."

* * *

Man, what is with all these 'uh oh' endings?


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! I know I thanked most of you already, but reviews are like chocolate, just can't get enough of them, so thanks!

In repsonse to one question from someone: they asked if McKay and Keller were together in this universe. I was going to talk about this later, but I'll answer now instead. I stick mostly to the cannon of the show. Obviously I wander a little, ie, the NCIS team being in it, but with relationships, deaths, life, etc, I stick to the show. So, seeing as this is set mid-Season 5, I guess McKay and Keller are sort of at that awkward stage where they've said how the feel (or we know, anyways) and they're tip toeing around the whole dating thing!

Hope that clears it up for you, ally! And thanks for the review!

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Chapter 7

The room was no different to any of the other of dozens of rooms utilised by Atlantis' military contingent, if a little sparser than usual. But that was to be expected, considering the inhabitant had been temporarily relocated to the alpha site until a murder had shaken the expedition to its very core.

As Gibbs supervised, DiNozzo and McGee searched the room. They weren't looking for anything in particular. They already knew all they needed to know from the expedition database – enough to know that the marine was at least the right shoe size to be their witness. This was more to catch him off guard, put him on the defensive, and hopefully make their job all that easier when Gibbs questioned him.

If all went according to plan, this case would be easily solved, and they could get back on with their holiday.

"Hey!"

The shout came from outside the room, where Ziva was standing guard. The voice was all too familiar, belonging to Sergeant Peterson, one of the men who had escorted the NCIS team back from the alpha site.

In fact, the good sergeant had almost demanded to be allowed to bring them back.

"What are you doing?" Peterson demanded loudly as he ran into a brick wall, otherwise known as Officer Ziva David. "Let me past, that's my room, dammit!"

The three men stopped and turned to the commotion. DiNozzo gave a toothy grin. "Showtime."

Giving him a hard stare, Gibbs walked to the door and met Peterson face on.

The look didn't seem to faze the sergeant. "That's my room," he snapped, turning his attention from Ziva to Gibbs. "You have no right to be in there. Do you have a warrant?"

Gibbs tilted his head lightly. "Might be a little difficult to get one from the Pegasus Galaxy ," he informed the marine. "But I'm sure Mr Woolsey won't mind. Not considering I have proof to show him and Colonel Sheppard that you witnessed a murder and didn't tell anyone."

The marine raised his head. "I didn't witness any murder," he told them both, eyeing Tony and McGee as they both approached.

Gibbs studied the young man. Either he was a very good liar, or he was telling the truth. In this case, the agent was going to bet on the former. "In that case, you won't mind lending us your shoes."

Peterson took a step back. "No. I don't reckon either Woolsey or the colonel would have agreed to any of this."

They hadn't. In fact, Gibbs hadn't told either of them yet – something about a problem at the alpha site – but Peterson didn't need to know that.

"Would I be here if they hadn't?" Gibbs asked, leaning forward. "I told them _everything_. About how much you wanted to escort us back here. How it was your down time when Ranger was killed." The other marine who had escorted them back, Mills, had given them that little snippet. "How you were seen sneaking into the infirmary only half an hour ago. Right about the time that Holt's boots – one of the few things able to tie him to the crime scene – disappeared."

Peterson's mouth tightened. "You can't prove anything. If you could, you wouldn't be searching my room, you'd have someone arresting me." He crossed his arms. "I didn't witness a murder, Agent Gibbs."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Gibbs told him. "About both. You did witness a murder. And we do have proof."

McGee came forward, handing over the datapad that he had left on Peterson's bed. It already had what they needed up and ready to go. And as he handed the computer to the sergeant, McGee pressed play.

And Peterson's face whitened as he watched the footage of him stealing Holt's boots.

He shoved the datapad back into McGee's hands and flinched slightly, eyes darting either way as if looking for an escape route. Seeing none – Ziva was blocking his path, and Gibbs knew she looked as quick as she actually was – the sergeant sighed heavily, suddenly looking lost and defeated.

"I told Holt it would come out," he told them, rubbing his eyes. "But… he made me promise not to say anything."

"Well, now he's still in surgery fighting for his life," DiNozzo pointed out with emphasis. Peterson caught it and glared.

"That's not his fault!" the sergeant snapped. "Major Lorne… he jumped to conclu-."

He cut off, snapping his jaw shut as he realized he was about to rat out not one, but two fellow soldiers. But the agents all heard it.

"Conclusions?" Gibbs finished for him. "How so?"

Peterson put his hands on his hips and looked around again. "Look, do we have to do this here. And the colonel should be here, as well. He deserves to hear this."

"He is out at the moment," Ziva told him as Gibbs motioned towards the sergeant's room. "But rest assured we will tell him everything you tell us."

Peterson scowled at her. "Why doesn't that comfort me," he muttered as the door slid shut. Behind him, Tony and McGee shared a look. He was obviously about to spill all, but Peterson was not acting defeated any longer, not as he turned to face them from before his window.

"What conclusions?" Gibbs repeated.

Peterson frowned at himself. "Earlier today, after they got back from their rounds, Holt went to Major Lorne and said something was wrong with Ranger. He said that Ranger had been acting unusually… touchy, I think he said. Angry, and just… not himself."

"And how did Lorne take that?" Gibbs asked, remembering Lorne's earlier mood. As he moved forward to face Peterson head on, the sergeant shook his head.

"From what Holt told me, not well. A few others heard the argument as well, though none of us thought it would come to the major shooting Holt." Peterson sighed. "Something's very wrong… I don't know what, but the major doesn't kill his own people. And neither did Holt."

Gibbs made a sound in the back of his throat. "You people keep on saying that," he snapped in his soft, strained tone. "Can't you accept the fact that a fight got out of control and ended in someone dead?"

Peterson scowled heavily. "And can't you accept the fact that things run differently in the Pegasus Galaxy?" he snapped. "Every single marine on this base is well trained, smart, and able to control themselves! And you don't have any clue what happened!"

"Well, tell us then," Ziva demanded, stepping up beside Gibbs with her arms crossed.

"We were in the barracks, on our down time – as you know," the sergeant added wryly. "Me and Holt. Ranger came in, pacing, anxious. He looked sick as well – he was sweaty, and pale, and he kept on twitching. Holt said something about him being even worse than before."

"Worse than what?" Ziva interrupted, but Peterson shrugged.

"I don't know. But Ranger heard him and just lost it. He pulled Holt from his bed and threw him across the walkway with… incredible strength." The marine shook his head. "Holt crashed into the bed before I could do anything, and then came at him again, tossing him like a rag doll. Holt fell to the ground, Ranger came at him… and I tried to stun Ranger with a Wraith stunner."

"So… Holt killed Ranger while he was down?" Ziva asked, confused, sharing a look with Gibbs. But the older agent shook his head in disagreement.

"No," Peterson confirmed with some sadness in his voice. "I hit Ranger, but it didn't take him down. He did stop though… took a step back and turned to face me. He had his knife out before I knew what was happening. He looked so… horrified about what he had done, what he was trying to do… he took another step away…"

Peterson looked away, down, his throat obviously constricting. And then he audibly swallowed, and looked back up.

"And then he stabbed the dagger into his own neck."

* * *

Sheppard parked the jumper in a clearing a few hundred metres below the alpha site proper, landing silently and keeping the cloak on. He had no idea what they were about to find at the alpha site, but he didn't want to take any chances he didn't have to.

Besides, he had already lost one puddle jumper this year.

He spun on his chair and stood, taking in his small army. Twelve marines, armed to the teeth, all crowded into the small space of the back of the jumper. Woolsey had been adamant that he take as many marines as possible, and Sheppard hadn't been about turn him down.

"All right, boys and girls," he addressed as Ronon, Teyla and Rodney stood up with him. "Let's get the plan straight. Major Graham, take your teams to the north, come down nice and slow. If there's anyone at the alpha site, I don't want to spook them. Make sure no one gets past. I want to know _exactly_ what went wrong. Lieutenant Broden, you're with me."

One of Graham's team hit the release on the jumper's hatch, and the sixteen of them filtered out of the back, Graham taking his seven men off at a run to get to the northern edge of the base in time to coordinate an attack with Sheppard and his team coming in from the south.

Within five minutes Sheppard was kneeling on one knee behind a bush, McKay by his side, looking at the alpha site.

Or what had been the alpha site.

"My God," McKay whispered. "Gibbs and his team only left what… two hours ago? Two and a half? Three, tops. What did they do?"

They – though who they were was still a mystery – had flattened it. The buildings were piles of rubble, strewn all over the clearing. The only thing still standing over a metre high was the machine gun that had been situated atop the central building. Now it was on the ground, rising above the devastation.

The only thing just as high was the uniformed body sprawled over the gun.

Other bodies dotted the landscape, and John really hoped that some of them were alive, because he had had fourteen men still here, and he couldn't stand losing even one.

Setting his mind to the task at hand, Sheppard clicked his radio twice. Graham's reply came instantly.

"We're in place, colonel," the major whispered. "But it's not a pretty picture."

Ignoring that last, Sheppard clicked his radio again. "Move in, Graham."

John stood up, obeying his own order, and the seven with him stood as well, moving forward in a vague line, weapons up and aimed at the lifeless alpha site.

Within a minute they were among the rubble, and there was no movement besides the team searching the remains for any sign of movement.

Finding nothing, Teyla and one of Graham's marines, Captain Dawson, ducked down to start checking for pulses.

"This one's dead!" the Athosian called softly.

"So's Farrell," Dawson told them. "Shot."

Trying to ignore the two, Sheppard searched the faces for anyone alive, any flinch, any movement, just a small rise of the chest.

A cough from nearby made him spin quickly, spotting the struggling legs instantly. He darted to the pinned man's side, ducking to his knees so he could lever a section of wall off his marine.

Sergeant Roberts' bloodied face slackened with relief when his eyes latched onto Sheppard's.

"Sir… just… came outta…" Roberts broke off into a fit of coughs, blood bubbling over his lips.

"Just hold on, Roberts, hold on," Sheppard ordered, before looking up. "Williams, Johnson head back to the gate, dial Atlantis, tell them we need medical teams here now!"

"No!" Roberts shouted. Or tried to; it came out as hoarse whisper, heard only because the sergeant reached up to grab his commander by the vest and pull him down with surprising strength. "Just… leave, colonel. It's not safe!"

Sheppard grabbed the marine back. "Why?" he demanded. "What happened here?"

"I've never seen… anyone -." He cut off, coughing again as Sheppard's team crowded in around them. John's grip tightened.

"What, Roberts, what? Come on, just hold on!"

The man shook his head. "There was no… warning… just… came outta nowhere! Farrell shouted out, and then took a bullet… another five were down before… before…"

"What attacked you?" John demanded, leaning closer, leaning in, desperate to know, needing to know so he could stop this from happening. Who could it be? Who used bullets?

Besides them.

God, he hoped there was someone besides them who he could blame.

Roberts shook his head again, coughing slightly. "He was so angry… just shouting… screaming. He was like a changed man."

Sheppard's blood ran cold. "Who? Who, sergeant? Who did this?"

In response, Roberts began to slip, though in no physical way. Then his head fell to the side, and he sighed, before closing his eyes and muttering a final whisper before falling unconscious. "It doesn't matter. It's too late."

"Sheppard!"

Rodney's sharp call cut through Sheppard's confusion, and he snapped his head up to look where Roberts' sight had last rested.

A marine was up. Or had appeared, in any case. Blood and dirt caked his face, his shirt ripped and a dark red in most spots. He limped, but he didn't seem to notice: even at this distance, they could all see the dazed set of his face, the glaze in his eyes. And the pistol hanging limply in one hand.

Sheppard was on his feet an instant, P90 up and aimed at Corporal Reilly a second later.

Half a dozen other guns cocked at the same time, but Reilly didn't even seem to notice them. He didn't notice the guns, the hard gazes, the marines moving back, away from him as he surveyed the damage. As he looked at the rubble with haunted eyes and shuddered.

Worried, confused, and a myriad of other emotions not at all similar to what he thought he would be feeling, Sheppard took a step forward. Hands tightened on triggers, but not one of the well trained marines fired a shot. Reilly didn't even notice.

"Corporal?" John asked, tilting his head slightly. "Corporal Reilly?"

The marine's head shot up and for the first time Sheppard saw the tears. "Colonel?" the man whispered, as if he barely recognised his commanding officer. "I don't… I don't know…"

"Do you know who did this, corporal?" Sheppard asked, though if he had been forced to admit it, he already knew who had committed this crime.

So did Reilly. He looked down, shaking his head, flinching with every new body that he spotted lying mangled on the ground. "I think… I think I did… I did it, sir. But I don't…. I don't know why… I can't remember…"

He trailed off, and the armed hand came up. The marines with Sheppard jumped, grips tightening once more on guns, aims coming up again. But all Reilly did was rub his face, his eyes, as if he were trying to get some feeling back into them.

"You think you did this, corporal?" Sheppard asked, to no response. "Corporal! Do you think you did this?"

Reilly's hand dropped, and he shook his head, face screwing up as remembrance is his eyes. He gave a dry sob. "No, I _know_ I did this… I killed them all, and I didn't even hesitate. Oh, God, why would I do that?"

Sheppard took another step forward. "You weren't yourself, corporal," the colonel told him, trying to sound confident, sure of himself, of the denial. Instead, it only made Reilly flare.

"Then who was I?" he screamed, and a second later his arm started rising, gun aimed straight.

Sheppard moved just as fast, dropping his P90, holding out his hand and yelling, "Hold your fire!" even as, for the second time that day, a gun settled its aim on him.

To their credit, the marines did as they were ordered, though one or two shared a concerned look. Sheppard ignored it all and kept his full attention on Reilly. "Easy there, corporal. Come on, let's just… let's just talk."

"What's there to talk about?" Reilly demanded, biting his lip as it quivered. "I killed them! I killed them all! I didn't mean to, I swear, but I was just… so… angry! I couldn't stop. I didn't _want_ to stop! God, why didn't I want to stop?"

The last was a whispered plea, and it tore through Sheppard's heart. He shook his head. "I don't know, corporal," he admitted in a quiet voice. "But I swear to you we're going to figure this out."

Reilly gave the tiniest of head shakes, and took a deep, gasping breath. "You can't figure this one out, colonel." For an instant he looked calm, composed, and Sheppard got a burning cold feeling in his gut. "It's been an honour serving under you, sir."

And he lifted the gun to his own temple.

* * *

And yet again, we have an 'uh oh'… hmm, anyone else picking up a recurring theme? And a potential problem? He he, see you tomorrow night!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, the response to this story has been incredible! No chance to reply individually tonight, but I will get round to it, I swear, time seems to be getting away from me though... Thanks again!

**Warning:** If you hadn't guessed from the ending of last chapter, there's attempts at suicide in this chapter, and the fallout from it...

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Chapter 8

And he lifted the gun to his own temple.

Sheppard was already moving, had begun moving when he spotted the calm surrender in Corporal Reilly's eyes. Moving with the same speed he had employed to kill Kolya, he grabbed the Wraith stunner in his thigh holster, yanked it out and aimed it at Reilly.

But he hadn't moved fast enough.

The stunner hit the corporal just as the gun in his hand went off, and even with the jerk from the bolt of energy coursing through him, Reilly only flinched enough to stop the bullet from destroying his temple.

Instead the bullet clipped the edge of his head; blood sprayed, not as much as Sheppard feared, and then Reilly fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Again John moved the fastest, racing forward to dive to his knees besides the downed corporal. Blood was still seeping out of the deep gash, but he didn't have a bullet through his skull.

He applied pressure with a hurriedly unwrapped field bandage, unsure if he should be doing so but hoping that the most important thing now was to stop, or at least slow, the bleeding. Teyla was beside him in a second, laying Reilly straight as Dawson ducked down to keep the corporal's head still.

Sheppard nodded his thanks, and then twisted his head to find Major Graham. "Find out where Williams and Johnson are," he ordered a touch breathlessly. He raised his voice. "Everyone else, check for survivors."

Graham touched his shoulder. "Williams and Johnson are only half way to the gate," the major told him.

"It's going to take too long," Sheppard growled, looking around as if for an answer. "It'll take ten minutes for a jumper to get here. Another ten to get Reilly back. He needs treatment now!"

Graham squatted on the other side of the still breathing Reilly. "Sir, with all due respect, even if he can be saved, would he want it?" He shook his head, and then looked around, emphasising the death and destruction. "Does he deserve it?"

Sheppard actually snarled. "This wasn't his fault, major," the colonel snapped, the urge to bear his teeth incredibly strong. "Just like it wasn't Ranger's fault, or Lorne's. Something's wrong with these men, and I'll be damned before I let them die for no good reason! Now find me a damn stretcher!"

Graham blanched slightly before nodding a rising, but Sheppard missed it all, instead searching for someone else. "McKay, take Reilly's head. Captain, I need you to run and get the jumper as quickly as possible." The scientist was already there, taking a gentle hold with a scrunched up face. "Now, Dawson, run!"

The captain went off at a sprint, holding his gun against his chest so it didn't rattle. Sheppard watched him for a moment before turning back to find Teyla staring at him.

"Major Graham is right about one thing," she began cautiously. "He admitted to massacring these people."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to live," Sheppard snapped instantly, interrupting her before she could go on. "Besides, he can't have been the only one. Even hopped up on something, he can't have taken out thirteen other marines. Something big went down, something went very wrong. This wasn't his fault – I'd stake my life on it."

"I agree," she told him a touch impatiently. "However, whether or not this was his fault, he did do it. And that has obviously created a great deal of guilt, or he would not have tried to kill himself. Would you want to live with the knowledge that you killed your own people?"

"I do," Sheppard snarled quietly, so only Rodney could hear besides the two of them.

"Yes, but Corporal Reilly is not you, and you were doing it to end Colonel Sumner's suffering," Teyla explained, getting exasperated. "Corporal Reilly _told_ us that he does not know why -."

Sheppard gave a sharp growl, cutting the Athosian off. "I don't care!" he told her as Graham arrived by his side with a stretcher found somewhere among the rubble. "We're getting him back and getting him right!"

Teyla fell into silence as she moved aside so Graham could lever the stretcher under the shallow-breathing corporal. Behind them Dawson was landing the jumper only fifteen feet away.

"McKay, you got his head, and the bandage?" Sheppard demanded. The scientist nodded quickly, and John wrapped a blood-soaked hand around a handle on the stretcher. Graham, Ronon and one of Sheppard's marines, Holden, grabbed another handle each, and together they raised the stretcher and walked towards the jumper. Dawson already had the hatch down, and they shuffled up it, before easing the stretcher to the ground.

"Major, stay here, wait for the medical team that's coming," Sheppard ordered, moving to the front. "Find any survivors and do what you can for them, but I want everyone back as quickly as possible." He looked around. "I don't want anyone here any longer than they need to be."

Graham nodded and backed off the hatch before Dawson hit the button and closed the door. Sheppard slid into the pilot's chair and took off only a second later. "Hold on boys and girls," he addressed McKay, Ronon, and the two marines as they cleared the treetops and sped off towards the gate. "It's going to be bumpy ride."

No sooner had the words left his mouth then the jumper died.

"What the hell!" Sheppard cried as the puddle jumper dipped and began falling from the sky. He pounded his fists on the terminal before him, trying to force life back into the machine, while Rodney got to his feet – no easy task with the sudden loss of inertial dampeners – and came to the fore of the jumper. But they hadn't been high in the sky and in the slim ship they dropped quickly, despite every effort Sheppard could muster to keep them steady and straight.

The jolt of hitting the trees jarred every bone in Sheppard's body, but even so he managed to grab McKay and pull him down, so he wouldn't hit his head against the –

They hit the ground and started rolling, sliding but by that stage everything had gone black.

* * *

"So Holt didn't kill Ranger," Woolsey repeated, sitting down in his chair. Gibbs nodded from where he stood, hands on his hips. The expedition commander sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Well… I guess. I mean, that could be good news, right?" Woolsey mumbled as Gibbs sat down across from him. The bald man looked up, obviously looking for consolation. He wasn't going to get it from Gibbs. "Well, at least… Holt's out of surgery, Dr Keller says he should be fine, barring complications. But why would Ranger attack him? And then kill himself? Even if he was so enraged he wanted to kill Holt, why stop, and then turn his knife on himself when he snapped out of it. Would he feel that guilty? Do you think it has something to do with this virus?"

Gibbs sat up straighter, not caring about the frustrated frown on his face. "With all due respect, Mr Woolsey," he began. "A virus doesn't make you kill people, others or yourself." He paused. "There has to be a certain strain working in an environment like this," he added. "Maybe these marines finally just… snapped."

Woolsey actually snorted. "What both Ranger and Lorne at once?" he snapped sarcastically. Then he shook his head. "I highly doubt it, Agent Gibbs. These people are the best of the best, and what's more, a vast majority love what they do here."

"But a virus?" Gibbs demanded. "Be realistic, Mr Woolsey. It's a virus, not brain-washing technology."

Somewhat annoyed, Woolsey leaned across the table. "That is realistic in this galaxy, Agent Gibbs. I know Colonel Sheppard has told you before, but apparently you didn't listen. Whatever you think you know about _real_ is only scratching the surface in this galaxy. If we had time, I'd show you the reports. The ones that read like fiction. The ones like the time a childhood disease wiped away the memories of this entire base. The time a pheromone given off by a visitor made everyone love him to the point that they would become sick, and depressed without him."

Woolsey leaned back, waiting for some reaction, but Gibbs refused to give him one. The man continued. "There's more, Agent Gibbs. Hell, some of them even happened in the Milky Way, but like I said, we don't have time. We had one viable option for what was going on with our people. Now we've scratched that one off the list. We need another, and this gives a reason to why normal, sane, good men are taking a dip in the crazy pool. What I need you to do now is find out what Ranger and Lorne have in common."

Gibbs' back went up, not used to taking orders and actually being expected to obey without question. But he took a mental step back, not liking the need to rearrange the world order in his head after so many years of knowing exactly what was what in the universe. Okay, so viruses could make you crazy enough to kill a friend. He could work with that. He could.

"What do you know about this virus, then?" Gibbs asked eventually, slowly.

"Nothing," Woolsey admitted. "For that, you'd need to talk to…" He sat up straighter, looking past Gibbs out to the walkway. "Speak of the devil."

Gibbs looked around to find Dr Biro entering the glass office, looking nervous and confused. Woolsey didn't even let her settle herself though.

"Doctor, what have you got?"

"I haven't got anything, Mr Woolsey," she began to explain.

The leader interrupted, not understanding. "What do you mean, doctor?" he demanded. "What are you doing here, then?"

"No, you don't understand!" The doctor sounded like she was close to having a panic attack. "I got the results back from Corporal Ranger's blood work. There's no trace of the virus."

Gibbs wanted to shoot Woolsey a triumphant grin, but refrained because of the sinking feeling that now he had to find a new suspect.

"But…" Woolsey avoided looking at Gibbs as well. "You said, doctor -."

To Woolsey's obvious surprise, Biro interrupted him. "I know what I said!" she actually snapped. "But there is no evidence of a virus. Which is wrong, because there is evidence… What I mean, is that all the signs of a virus are there. High temperature, elevated levels of white blood cells, though his immune system was severely damaged. There is evidence of the beginning of multiple organ failure – his kidneys were -."

"Get to the point, Dr Biro," Woolsey snapped, obviously frustrated. The doctor gave him a hard look.

"The point is, I couldn't find any alien pathogens in him. And by alien pathogens, I don't actually mean alien… well, I do, in the sense that it wasn't from… well, you get the picture. I couldn't find any actual virus."

Gibbs and Woolsey shared a look. "So how do you find a virus that doesn't exist?" the agent asked slowly. Woolsey just shook his head helplessly before checking his watch.

"Colonel Sheppard needs to hear this," he decided, standing up. Gibbs stood with him. "They're overdue for a check in anyway."

The commander led the way across the walkway, spotting one of the technicians behind the Ancient consoles. "Amelia, dial the gate."

* * *

They all heard the crash from the alpha site, standing up straight as the noise of trees being torn and shredded created a deep, cold hole in each and every gut.

Teyla shared a look with Major Graham, and then the marine spun to address his men before the crashing had even stopped. "Bryan, Wheeler, Henderson, you're with me!"

"I'm coming as well, Major," Teyla told him, but Graham wasn't about to argue. He just nodded.

They took off at a run, sprinting out of the alpha site and towards the gate as fast as they could. The splintering of the trees ended quickly, suddenly, and the abrupt silence was eerie in the dying light of the planet they had made their back up home.

Faster by a second, Teyla was the first to clear the destruction-less trail, suddenly finding herself jumping over broken branches, tree limbs, her heart rising up her throat as the path the crashing puddle jumper had taken became clearer and clearer.

And then suddenly the clearing the Stargate occupied was there, and so were the two marines, Williams and Johnson.

And so was the jumper, lying upside down against the Stargate, directly in the path of the vortex if the wormhole was established.

As she took in the sight, Teyla unwillingly slowed, jaw dropping and eyes widening. Debris littered the clearing, sticks and splinters dropped carelessly in the tracks of what could only have been the sliding jumper. Major Graham caught up around the same time as his men, and together they absorbed the crash.

Realizing what she was doing, Teyla shook herself mentally and ran forward, aiming for where Williams and Johnson were already trying to open the rear hatch. The five of them joined the two marines, but Teyla wasn't sure how they would gain access to the crashed ship. Despite its abilities to withstand the rigours of space and atmospheric re-entry, the jumper was apparently unable to handle crashing through a forest of trees – the ship was dented, and the hatch stuck.

"How do we get them out?" Teyla demanded, looking at Major Graham. But the marine just shook his head.

"I don't know. We need crowbars, but we don't have any…" He shook his head again, helplessly.

"Is there some kind of locking mechanism that we could… I don't know, shoot loose?" Teyla asked, very aware of how Ronon-esque that question was.

"Only on the inside," Wheeler told her, staring at the door as if it were a problem he could fix. "Wouldn't do much good if your enemy could shoot at it during space battle."

Teyla clicked her radio. "Colonel Sheppard? Ronon? Doctor McKay?"

Major Graham got the idea. "Captain Dawson? Sergeant Holden? Come in, anyone?"

Teyla felt her head dropping, as Graham motioned for the others to begin trying to pry it free. "John, can you hear me? Rodney, come in. Ronon!"

A noise came over the radio, a small groan before a voice. "Teyla, that you?"

Teyla wasn't the only one to heave a sigh of relief. "Ronon, are you okay?"

"Fine," the Satedan answered gruffly, gruffly enough that Teyla knew he was lying. "What happened?"

"I don't know," the Athosian woman answered. "The jumper crashed, but I don't know why." And for the moment she didn't really care. "How is everyone else?"

"Hang on," the answer came, and from inside the jumper came the sounds of things being tossed aside. "Dawson and Holden are alive, but still unconscious. Man, Reilly's still alive too."

"What about the colonel, and the doc?" Graham asked. There was a moment of silence, and more movement from inside the jumper.

"Both unconscious. McKay's got a head wound, but he's breathing fine. Uh, Sheppard's not looking so hot. We need a med team here as soon as possible."

"We need you out of there first, Ronon," Graham told him, to more silence. Confused silence this time.

"You are against the Stargate, Ronon," Teyla explained. "If we dial, it will take out the jumper, and whoever's inside."

There was more silence. "And the hatch isn't opening."

"We've been trying from this side," Graham told him. "But we're not having much luck."

"Something must be jammed," Ronon agreed. "Cause it won't work from here either. And the hatch doesn't look the right shape."

"It's mostly intact," Wheeler interrupted. "If we can get the locking mechanism to release, we should be able to pry it open."

"And how do I do that?" Ronon demanded. There was a pause. "Hang on, do you actually want me to shoot something?"

"It was Teyla's idea," Graham dobbed, to a scowl from the Athosian.

"We need to get you out of there, Ronon," she explained patiently. "We're already late for our check-in, and you know Mr Woolsey."

Graham grimaced with acknowledgement, but Ronon answered instantly. "Okay, shooting the panel it is. I don't know what this will do, so… maybe step back."

The marines stepped away from the hatch, and there was another moment of silence before the muffled sound of Ronon's blaster filtered through the hull of the jumper. The marines jumped forward again, bending over to grab what had been the top of the hatch, hands and muscles straining, bulging. Over the radio they could hear Ronon groaning as well, apparently pushing from inside. Heavier than it looked, the hatch still actually began moving, inch by inch, slowly but surely widening the gap.

Not soon enough, however, as the lights of the Stargate lit up and the countdown began when they could only see Ronon's feet.

* * *

He he… sorry, but… uh oh!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, but again, no individual replies... what can I say, I'm a busy woman!

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They couldn't help it. Teyla, Major Graham, the marines, even Ronon, they all paused, horror sinking deep into their guts.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is?" Ronon demanded loudly, his voice slightly muffled through the open crack of the jumper hatch.

"Push, Ronon, push!" Teyla shouted instead as both she and Major Graham joined in, heaving with all their might. One chevron locked into place.

Luck shone down on them, and half way up, the hatch's automatic release kicked into gear, and opened completely. Ronon sagged forward, wincing as he put a hand around his ribs, ignoring the still bleeding gash on his forehead.

Teyla took the chance only to take stock of his injuries before she dashed inside, having to fight the six marines to get inside the small opening.

A second chevron locked into place.

Williams and Johnson picked up the stretcher bearing Corporal Reilly, scuttling out of the jumper as quickly as they had run in. Henderson went to where Dawson sat against the side, no apparent injuries aside from a large bruise on one side of his face. Bryan raced to Holden's side, but the marine appeared to be in no imminent danger, already groaning, eyes fluttering.

A third chevron locked into place.

Teyla, Graham and Wheeler moved to the front of the jumper, kicking aside a few first aide kits, and a yellow case the Athosian knew held a sidearm of some description.

Rodney was curled up, unconscious, on the floor – which had been the roof – but he appeared largely unhurt, except for a mess of blood behind and above his ear. He seemed close to waking himself as Wheeler grabbed him and started dragging him out of the jumper.

A fourth chevron lit up, and the circle of lights continued moving.

Teyla knelt down by John where he lay slumped against the glass of the front window, taking in the deep wound on his forehead, the blood running through one eye, and the shallow breathing. A few fingers looked out of place as well, but he was alive, for which she would be forever grateful.

A fifth chevron lit up.

"I've got him," Graham grunted as he grabbed Sheppard under the arms, slinging him over a shoulder. Teyla's eye caught the blood stain where Sheppard had collided with the window, and she shook her head, hoping John wasn't dead even if his body lived.

The sixth chevron locked and from outside someone shouted for them to hurry.

Teyla refused to move from Graham's side as the major raced from the back of the jumper, continuously checking on John as his breathing hitched with every jolt of his marine's running.

The seventh chevron lit up, and locked, and Teyla and Major Graham launched themselves from the crashed jumper, the unstable vortex of the opening wormhole missing their feet by mere inches.

Teyla rolled smoothly to her feet while beside her, Major Graham took the brunt of the fall, but couldn't stop Sheppard being flung a few feet further. It didn't matter, because Bryan was by his commander's side instantly, Ronon not far behind despite his own injuries.

And then their radios came to life.

"Colonel Sheppard, come in."

Graham got to his feet, and clicked his radio. "Mr Woolsey, this is Major Graham."

There was a pause. "Major, what happened to Colonel Sheppard?" Woolsey asked after a moment.

The major sighed. "I'm not a hundred percent sure, Mr Woolsey, but the jumper crashed."

"No, it just died," Ronon interrupted. "The lights went off, and we went down."

"In any case, we need a med team quickly," Graham continued. "And they could use one at the alpha site too."

"We'll send one through as quickly as possible," Woolsey agreed. "What happened?"

Graham sighed. "It's a long story, sir. It might be better to wait til we get back."

There was a pause, and then faint sounds of someone talking in the background. Then Woolsey came back online. "Okay, Major. We're shutting down the gate once the med teams are through. Will the jumper be right to get to the alpha site?"

It sounded like a last minute thought, worry for a second jumper crash clear, but Graham nodded confidently. "It will be, sir."

A jumper slid effortlessly from the event horizon, followed by a small team of nurses, marines, and Keller, who looked tired. An instant later the Stargate shut down, and Graham quickly lost his confidence, as if Woolsey could have seen it through the wormhole. Only Teyla heard him mutter, "I hope so."

The med team took only a moment to stare at the destroyed jumper surrounding their exit before taking stock of the situation. Keller, despite her obvious exhaustion, dashed straight to Sheppard's side, muttering under her breath. She gestured wildly at one of the marines, who carried a pack on his back. He knelt by her side, taking off the pack and pulling out a foldable stretcher while Keller checked the colonel's pupils, his breathing, his heart beat.

"We need to get him back, and under a scanner," the doctor decided quickly, putting her stethoscope back around her neck. She looked around, taking in the already awake Ronon, and Holden, the still unconscious Dawson and McKay, the somehow still alive Reilly. "We need to get them all back."

Major Graham nodded. "Wheeler, dial the gate!"

* * *

The NCIS team was still waiting in the control room, overlooking the Stargate when the wormhole opened and Keller led the way back onto the floating city, the two marines she had taken with her holding onto a stretcher with two of their fellows.

McGee blanched slightly as he recognised the figure on one of the stretchers, before sharing a look with Ziva. Both DiNozzo and Gibbs refused to take their gazes from the group emerging from the alpha site.

"What did they say happened?" McGee asked when the group had disappeared.

Gibbs stood up straighter and moved away. "The jumper crashed," he told them, bringing a frown from DiNozzo.

"I thought Sheppard was meant to be this great pilot," he thought out loud.

"He is," an accented voice snapped from behind. They all turned to find the Czech scientist, Zelenka, staring at the taller agent. "And if you listened, you would know the jumper died."

Sensing DiNozzo was about to argue back – somewhat uncharacteristically – Gibbs interrupted. "What can we do for you, Doctor Zelenka?"

The Czech stopped glaring at Tony and turned to the older man. "Mr Woolsey wants you to start, er, uh, backtracking Corporal Ranger's whereabouts, trying to figure out where he might have come into contact with this virus."

That got a round of disbelieving glances from the younger agents, but Gibbs just nodded, crossing his arms.

DiNozzo, however, was discontent with a single glance with his team mates. "Come on, do you really think it's a virus who caused people to kill? Besides, I thought there was no trace of any virus in Ranger's system."

Zelenka glared at him again. "Yes, I really do believe it is a virus," the little man snapped. "And there were traces, we just couldn't find the actual virus."

"So we're finding the source of a virus we can't actually find?" Tony summed up a touch facetiously. Zelenka's face darkened.

"We have faced invisible forces before, Agent DiNozzo. Forces we could not see in time to stop them before they took over almost completely. Perhaps, when you have spent as much time in Atlantis, in this galaxy, as I have, you will understand."

"Look, I understand -," DiNozzo began before Gibbs decided he had had enough.

"DiNozzo, that's enough," the older agent interrupted, turning to Radek. "Doctor, who can we talk to about Ranger's last days?"

"The other marine who brought you back from the alpha site, he had been there a while, no?" Zelenka shrugged. "I can help you with the reports they sent back to Atlantis, but for the most recent information, he will be most helpful."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "McGee, you go with the doctor, check out those reports." The two of them nodded and walked off, already deep in conversation. Gibbs continued. "Ziva, I want you to go talk to Lieutenant Mills, ask him where Ranger's duties took him."

She nodded and walked away, somewhat confused and curious as to why the two senior agents were not accompanying her. But, well trained, she said nothing, and Gibbs turned to Tony as the Israeli officer disappeared from sight.

"What about us, boss?" DiNozzo asked, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"We're going to talk to Major Lorne," Gibbs explained, feeling generous. "Because if this is a virus, and Ranger has it, most likely Lorne picked it up at the same place."

* * *

The first thing that came back to Rodney was…

"Ow, ow, ow…"

He muttered it, putting a hand to his head as awareness returned with startling clarity. His head throbbed, right above his ear, pounding away with palpable viciousness in time with the ache in his knee.

But aside from that, he was surprisingly okay.

"McKay, you finally awake?"

Ronon's voice cut through the drumming, and with a start he opened his eyes, realizing he hadn't, seeing Ronon and Teyla standing over him. The bright lights of Atlantis' infirmary were dimmed, enough that he could handle them stabbing into his brains through his eyes. He winced anyway, when his right eye complained about being opened. He felt the area above and around it and felt what could only be a really, very, large bruise.

"Ow!"

"Well, stop poking at it," Keller told him as she walked over from the other side of the infirmary. Rodney could see one of the marines from the jumper on the bed over there, awake and bright-eyed, arm in a cast.

McKay removed his hand and clasped them at his stomach. Then he frowned. "What happened?"

Ronon and Teyla shared a look, and Rodney took the time to check them both over. The Athosian was fine, but then again, she hadn't been in the jumper when it… Ronon, on the other hand, had his own nasty looking bruise, and what looked like bandages under his shirt. Cracked/broken ribs then.

"Don't you remember?" Ronon demanded. "The jumper crashed."

Rodney sighed. "Yeah, I remember. I was just hoping I was remembering wrong. How is everyone?"

"Alive," Keller told him. "Even Corporal Reilly. Somehow. Though, if he remains unchanged by what happened… Um, Ronon escaped with just a concussion, Holden has that and a broken arm. And Dawson has a broken leg. You have a concussion as well, but other than that… actually, you probably came out of it the best."

McKay snorted. "Only because Sheppard pulled me down. Otherwise I would have crashed into the jumper window when we hit the – Where is Sheppard?"

There was a slight edge of panic to his voice, which he tried his best to ignore, but it didn't help when Jennifer put her hands up, trying to calm him. "He's fine. Somehow. He's still unconscious. He did hit the window, and the console. Broken ribs, concussion, dislocated fingers. But it could have been a lot worse."

Rodney took a deep breath and sat back in the bed. "Alive's good," he agreed. "Um, you got anything for a splitting headache?"

Jennifer nodded. "Yeah, hang on, just let me grab you something."

The three of them watched her go before Ronon and Teyla shared a look. Then the Athosian looked straight at Rodney.

"What happened?" she asked. "You said you remember? How could John, of all people, crash a jumper?"

"He didn't," Rodney told them, defending his friend, as if he had any need in the present company. "In fact, it's probably because of him that we're all so uninjured." The scientist shook his head. "No, the power just… died."

"Died?" Teyla asked, though Ronon had told her the same thing. "What could have possibly made it die?"

"I don't know!" McKay snapped. "I won't know anything until I get back to the ship and analyse it!"

"Uh, that's going to be a little difficult…" Ronon told him, sharing another knowing look with Teyla.

"Why?" Rodney demanded. "Don't tell me Sheppard managed to mangle it on the ground."

"I do not know if John had anything to do with it," Teyla told him. "But the jumper stopped when it hit the Stargate, lengthways. When Mr Woolsey dialled in to check on us…"

She let it hang in the air, but Rodney got it. "Oh no." His face screwed up and he closed his eyes. "How destroyed is it?"

"Almost completely," Teyla told him. "We were lucky to get you out before the Stargate opened."

"The point is," Ronon told him, "There's not much you're going to be able to analyse."

So what had gone wrong? Rodney frowned, trying to think, as much as his aching mind fought him. Then he shook his head. "It's like… there was no EM pulse, nothing hit us. The jumper just died, like it had no power. But there wasn't even any warning, no…"

"Flashing lights?" Ronon asked with a small smirk. "Loud noises?"

"Right," Rodney agreed wryly. "No flashing lights or loud noises. Like suddenly it was just off."

"Maybe there was something wrong with the interface that senses the ATA gene," Teyla suggested.

"Oh, yeah, cause that makes sense," Rodney snapped. "The thing was built by people who were made up of the ATA gene. I don't think it's even possible. No, there has to be another reason."

They all fell silent as Keller approached once more, deep in thought. Rodney accepted the tablet quietly, his mind elsewhere, while Ronon and Teyla shared one more look and left the room.

* * *

Hey, no 'uh oh'! More a, phew, everyone's alive… not including peeps back at the alpha site of course...

Chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Uh, bad news guys... I'm going home for the weekend. Tomorrow. And my rentals got rid of their net cause their computer's kinda crap... which means I won't be able to post until Sunday. My Sunday...

SORRY!

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* * *

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Chapter 10

The door to the isolation chamber was guarded by two extra marines as Gibbs and DiNozzo approached the room. The two who had been there before shared a look and then stepped forward, wariness plastered over their faces.

"I don't know if you should go in there, sirs," the shorter one warned, glancing back at the door. "The major is… not in a good temper."

Which was exactly how they had left him. Gibbs just held his head up. "I need to speak to him, captain," the older agent maintained. "We'll just have to deal with a little bit of a temper. Now, open up the doors."

The captain sighed and shrugged. "Can't say I didn't warn you." He grabbed the Wraith stunner from where it was tucked into his vest, offering it to Gibbs. "I'm coming in with you, but you'll need this as well."

Gibbs took the offered weapon and nodded, tucking it into the small of his back. DiNozzo glanced between the captain and his boss, but he said nothing, just followed Gibbs as they moved towards the door.

It opened to reveal a destroyed room. The computers that had adorned the walls were shattered pieces of plastic and boards and circuits. The chairs were bent and broken, while the gurney that had been shoved in one corner had crumpled where it had been smashed against the wall beneath the observation window.

Lorne was pacing in the centre of the room, his fists clenched tight, his eyes smouldering with barely contained rage. Sweat dripped down his face, and his whole body trembled. He looked sick, really sick. Almost like a virus was ravaging his body. A suspicious, uncomfortable thought began crossing Gibbs' mind.

He only had an instant to take all this in before the major's head snapped up and he turned on them so quickly it could have caused whiplash. "You!" Lorne snarled. "You bastard, you shot me!"

He began storming towards the older agent as Gibbs paused a few feet from the door but the clicking of a sidearm being cocked stopped him short, his gaze snapping towards the captain.

"Ease up there, major," the marine warned. "I want at least five feet distance between you and anyone else."

Lorne sneered but he didn't move either. "Whatever you say, Tarrent." He put his hands up in mock surrender. "Not going anywhere. What can I do for you, Agent Civilian?"

Gibbs refused to be mocked, staring hard at the major. "I need to know where you went and what you did in the day before Corporal Ranger died."

Lorne crossed his arms and tilted his head back, looking down his nose at them. "What's so important about that?"

DiNozzo snorted. "If you hadn't noticed major, you've been acting a little weird. These fine people you work with seem to think it's because of some kind of virus. If they're right – and they would know – we need to know where you picked it up."

Lorne looked at him, studying the younger agent for a long, silent time, until DiNozzo was shifting uncomfortably. And then the major grinned, chuckling softly, almost triumphantly, knowingly, before turning back to Gibbs. DiNozzo's back went up, but he said nothing.

"I didn't do anything," Lorne told him, shrugging. "I didn't go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. I'm not answering any of your questions."

"Come on, major," Gibbs whispered in a taunting voice. "What's so wrong with answering a few questions?"

Lorne snarled. "The problem isn't the questions," he snapped. "It's who's asking them!"

"You're putting this whole base in danger," Gibbs told him, trying a different tact. "If we don't know how you caught this virus, how do you expect us to fight it?"

Lorne's snarl deepened. "Why should I care? Colonel Sheppard doesn't trust me anymore! No one trusts me! They can all go to hell for all I care!"

Not exactly the reaction he wanted. Trying not to frown, Gibbs crossed his arms. "Can you blame them? Can you blame Sheppard?" he asked. "Look at how you're behaving? Does it strike you as normal?" It didn't seem normal to him. For the first time, he was truly beginning to accept the idea that maybe this was all just because of a virus of some kind. Lorne definitely looked sick. "You're sick, major! It's making you act like this! Is this how you want to act?"

"I do what I have to do to keep the peace on this base!" Lorne snapped. "It's not some _virus_ changing me! Goddammit, I'm doing what no one else has the guts to do!"

His face was red now, the screaming stretching his throat. He looked like he was itching to step forward, but Captain Tarrent still had his gun up and pointed at the furious major.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "If you're talking about Sergeant Holt, Major Lorne… he was innocent."

Lorne's anger swelled beyond comprehension, and he actually did take one, two steps forward, one hand up, finger pointed. "He was not innocent!" he screamed. "He killed Ranger! He killed him!" Lorne's finger spun to DiNozzo. "You showed me, you told me, asked me if anyone had complained! He complained about Ranger, and three hours later Ranger was dead! Dead! He killed him, he killed him!"

"No." Gibbs told him simply, quietly. The effect was startling. Lorne's face paled even further, and he began heaving, like he couldn't breath. He took two staggering steps back. "He didn't kill Ranger. Holt tried to stop Ranger from killing himself. But he couldn't."

"No," Lorne whispered defiantly. "No, no, no, no. No!" He spun on the spot, stalking away, throwing his hands about, looking panicked and alarmed. "No, he killed him, he did! I wouldn't… I wouldn't… I… I…"

Suddenly Lorne slipped to his knees, falling to his hands as if his legs and body couldn't hold him up anymore. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Tarrent's gun drop slightly, along with his jaw.

For one of the few times in his life, Gibbs wasn't sure what to do. The major was obviously hurting, but if he was a major, in the air force, a pilot, and one of the top men on the great city of Atlantis, he had to be smart. He could be faking it. If he was lucid enough to fake anything.

Then Lorne slipped to the ground, unmoving, and Gibbs decided.

He dashed forward, DiNozzo right on his heels, much to the obvious chagrin of Captain Tarrent. The marine _tsked_ and took a step forward, before holstering his gun and reaching for his radio.

"We need a med team to the isolation chamber, now!"

Gibbs barely heard as he knelt beside the fallen major and rolled him over, slightly surprised to find a dazed, disorientated but somewhat normal man staring back.

"Major?" Gibbs asked, grabbing his shoulders, concern touching his voice. Lorne's face had gone completely white, and sweat poured out of him. "Major Lorne?"

The man struggled to focus on him. "Who…?" His voice was hoarse, small, like he couldn't speak any louder. "You… I…"

He tried to struggle for a moment but both DiNozzo and Gibbs held him down, a little put out by the sudden turn of events. "Easy there, major. Just hold still."

"No," Lorne told him, shaking his head, and Gibbs tried not to gape as tears joined the streaks of sweat running down the major's face. "I… no, I… tell me… Oh, God, what did I do… Kill me now!"

Gibbs leaned back, shocked. "Just… hold on, major. Someone's coming to -."

Lorne cut him off, reaching out with shocking speed to grab Gibbs by the shirt. "No… Don't… make me live with- with _these_ memories! I couldn't have… couldn't… no, please… please…"

His eyes closed and his face fell to the side. Gibbs felt the grip on his shirt slip and he leaned back, just in time for the medical team to arrive. They enclosed the unconscious major even as Gibbs and DiNozzo stepped away, sharing a look. The younger agent was the first to break the stare, looking back down at Lorne with a worried, confused expression.

Within a minute they had Lorne on a gurney and a harried looking Dr Keller approached the two NCIS agents.

"We're coming too," Gibbs told her immediately.

"That's not negotiable," Keller told them sternly. "I need to check you both over anyways. Besides, Colonel Sheppard is awake. Mr Woolsey wants a meeting with you all immediately."

* * *

Sheppard looked away as the curtains slid across and hid Lorne from view as the doc and her nurses started working on the unconscious major. Hitting the mattress of his bed, he looked down, scowling, desperate to do something but knowing there was absolutely nothing that he could do.

"Ease up there, Sheppard," Gibbs suddenly said from where he was standing beside the colonel's bed, DiNozzo beside him. "You'll put a hole through the bed."

Sheppard didn't see the joke, glancing back at where Lorne was hidden. "Did he say anything? About how he was feeling? I mean, he has the virus, right? Did he say where he caught it?"

Gibbs seemed taken aback by the round of questions. "Uh, no, no, yes and no. He must have the virus after the way he was acting."

From the bed on the other side of Sheppard, McKay snorted. "That much was obvious since we figured out that Ranger had one," he told them, sitting up and spinning. Keller had said he was right to go – and even if he wasn't quite back to healthy, she needed the beds. The med team had brought back five alive marines from the slaughter at the alpha site. That, along with the jumper crash, Holt, Reilly and now Lorne, the infirmary was close to being overwhelmed.

DiNozzo scowled at the scientist as he hobbled over, stretching out his knee. There was a mighty bruise on it, according to Rodney. "We didn't know anything, McKay," the younger agent snapped. "How the hell could we have guessed it really was a virus?"

Sheppard chuckled darkly before he could help himself. "Well, we did tell you," he reminded them both. "But you just didn't listen."

"Well, I'm sorry we're not your typical hardcore Atlantis personnel with all the knowledge and experience of the ages," DiNozzo butted in before John could go on.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs warned carefully, but the younger man ignored him.

"Tell me again, how you went in a real investigation?"

"DiNozzo, that's enough!" the senior agent growled, and, slightly abashed, Tony backed down, withering under his boss's stare. "We don't need you – any of you," he added, glancing at Sheppard and McKay, "arguing with each other! We need to find out where Ranger and Lorne got this disease and find a cure. Something which requires _all_ our abilities."

"Something we should be able to help with," Ziva suddenly called from the doors to the infirmary. Gibbs, not used to playing peacemaker, took his time at turning, making sure the others got the point. When he did turn, it was to find a large crowd suddenly entering the infirmary. Ziva, McGee, the rest of Sheppard's team, as well as Mr Woolsey and Dr Zelenka. Out of the corner of his eye, the NCIS leader saw Keller give them all a long glance, but eventually she turned away, ignoring it for now.

The group crowded around Sheppard's bed – to the colonel's obvious distaste – and Ronon tapped his leader on the leg, ignoring the wince. "How you doing, Sheppard?"

"Banged and bruised, but I'll survive," the colonel told him with a wave of his bandage-wrapped hand. "What were you saying, Ziva?"

"I talked to Mills," she told him, apparently glad to be getting down to business. "The day before Ranger died, Lorne and he were apart of a team who travelled to an Ancient lab on the other side of the planet. They searched the complex, stayed the night, before coming back."

"An Ancient lab?" Rodney demanded sourly. "How come they never let me know?"

"Probably because one of their team up and died on them, McKay," Sheppard reminded him sharply before turning back to Ziva. "Did Mills say what kind of lab?"

"No," Ziva said dejectedly. "Mills wasn't on the team, there was only four – Major Lorne flew the jumper, Corporal Ranger, Lieutenant Marsh and Private Burnie."

"Lorne is unresponsive," Woolsey said, ticking off a finger on one hand. "Ranger and Burnie are both dead, but Marsh survived the alpha site. He might be able to shed some light on what happened at this Ancient lab."

"Not likely," Keller informed him, joining them with a sad look on her face. "He slipped into a coma ten minutes ago."

"So we have to check it out," Ronon decided. "If that's the source of this virus then we need to know."

Teyla nodded her agreement. "There may be a cure there," she added. "I cannot see the Ancient's creating a virus without also creating the cure."

Keller frowned. "For starters, I can't see the Ancients creating a virus," she told them.

"They've done it before," Rodney interrupted with a knowing, smug look, not at all unlike his usual look. "We know that at least once they created something that would kill humans, if not themselves."

Keller gave him a small glare. "In any case, you can't go to this lab, not if it was the source of the infection."

"We could if we wear HAZMAT suits," Sheppard told her. The doctor's glare transferred from the scientist to him.

"_You_ are not going anywhere, colonel," she told him stubbornly. "And neither are you, Rodney. I need you at least on base, in case your concussion develops complications."

"We will go," Teyla said before either grounded man could argue. They looked set to, as well, injuries or no injuries. "Ronon and I are quite capable of searching for the answer."

Sheppard shifted on the bed, obviously holding his tongue about any offworld trips of his own. "I know what lab they're talking about – they just mentioned there was one and that they might check it out when they had a chance," the colonel told Rodney before the physicist could get the words out of his suddenly gaping mouth. "And it's on the other side of the planet. You'll need a jumper, and a pilot."

"Take Radek as well," Rodney added with a sigh. "He knows almost as much as I do."

"And McGee's going with you as well," Gibbs interrupted, not about to let his team be let out."

"Hang on, hang on," Woolsey demanded, holding up his hands. "No one is going anywhere until I decide it. And I haven't decided it, yet. I'm not about to send more people to become infected with an enraging virus!"

Scowling, Sheppard crossed his arms, being careful with his dislocated fingers. "What else can we do?" he asked as patiently as he could. "Where else could this virus have come from?"

"Exactly my point," Woolsey told him. "We don't know how it is transmitted. Why were Lorne and Ranger infected, and not Marsh, or Burnie? Or were they, but they didn't get a chance to manifest? Why did Ranger succumb sooner than Lorne? How did Reilly catch it from them? Is it spreading around the base? No, the best thing is for Dr Keller to do as much research on this as possible, and for those at risk of having been infected to remain under observation."

"I haven't even be able to locate this thing in anyone's bloodstream," Keller defended, looking panicked at having the weight of Atlantis once again on her shoulders and changing er opinion. "Any information at this base would be incredibly helpful."

"But am I supposed to risk another five people?" the commander asked her. "And what if you were infected at the alpha site?"

To that Keller shook her head. "I already tested Colonel Sheppard's blood after his altercation with Major Lorne. It was clean. No foreign bodies. I still have to test the rest of us, but he's had the most chance of infection. We should be fine."

"But Dr Biro couldn't find any in Ranger, either," Woolsey reminded her. "No, my decision is final. Dr Keller, you can have what you need to figure this out, but we are staying away from that Ancient lab. Gate activity will be restricted to an as needed basis. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some off world teams to contact."

The commander turned and left, and Sheppard slammed his fist against the bed again. "Dammit, he has no idea how to handle this!"

Rodney snorted in agreement, but Ronon and Teyla shared a look. "He's just doing his job, Sheppard," the Satedan argued, sounding odd as the voice of reason. "It makes sense."

"Sometimes sense isn't the best option," DiNozzo snapped back, putting his hands on his hips, on the verge of pacing. "We need to do something!"

"We can only do what we are allowed to do," Ziva argued back. But she shook her head, disagreeing as well.

Keller sighed, crossing her arms. "Well, I guess I have work to do."

* * *

At least I didn't leave you with a cliffhanger for two, maybe three days... See you after the weekend!


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Yep, it's true, I'm back, and once again, sorry about the wait! But the answers to everyone's questions will be appearing soon, so be happy!

Here's the next chapter! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed, over 100, so, so cool!

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Chapter 11

Feeling restrained and useless, Ziva plonked her tray of lunch down in front of McGee's computer and sat down heavily into her seat.

McGee barely even glanced at her, stifling a yawn as he stared with intense concentration at the screen. Ziva fought not to copy him, but she had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours now – she had been too excited to sleep on the Daedalus the night before last – and it was catching up with her now that she had nothing to do.

Instead she focused on McGee, tilting her head slightly, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

Finally, getting bored and frustrated she slammed his computer screen down. "McGee!"

The probie scowled up at her. "Can I help you?" he demanded, opening the laptop again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, picking up her fork.

"Well, seeing as we hit a wall with what we can do in the investigation into this uh, virus, I talked Zelenka into letting me take a look at Atlantis' systems." He chuckled in amazement. "And trust me, you have no idea how unbelievably advanced this city is. If Zelenka and McKay actually understand any of this, I will never dispute their genius-ness ever again."

Ziva chuckled as well. "Just don't let McKay hear you say that," she told him between french fries. "His head is already swollen like a balloon."

McGee agreed with a nod. "The more I look at this, the more good reason I see for it, though." He shook his head again. "Just keeping these systems operational must require a -."

He cut off suddenly, with a frown. Then he moved closer to the screen. Ziva waited patiently, but it had been a long day.

"McGee!" she snapped. "Must require a…?"

The probie shook his head and stood up so suddenly the chair scraped backwards a foot. "Sorry, I need to ask Zelenka or McKay something."

And he sped off, computer in hands. Ziva swore she had never seen him move so fast.

But it left her bored once more. Sighing, she finished her lunch in silence and decided that maybe she should get some sleep. She kept on cracking her jaw with all the smothering of yawns, and apparently there was nothing she could do about anything going on in Atlantis – that was all in the hands of Keller and scientists like McKay, Zelenka, and apparently McGee.

But judging by the probie's race off to find a scientist who knew something about Atlanitis' systems, and the sudden gut feeling she had, she should probably stay awake.

Returning her tray, she left the commissary and made her way to the infirmary, only getting lost once and not even having to ask one of the many expedition members patrolling the halls.

She did end up pausing though, at the door to the gym where it had sounded like Ronon was working off some frustration and pent-up energy. Which just did not make sense, seeing as he was under strict orders not to do anything that might aggravate his head wound.

So she was a little relieved to find the Satedan absent from the room. The marine inside, hitting bags and air in the style of some type of karate, was a lot smaller, but also a lot faster. Ziva paused for a moment to appreciate the forms before turning and walking back the way she had come.

She finally found the infirmary, where an exhausted looking Jennifer Keller was sitting before a computer, microscope to on side, chin on hand, eyes drooping.

"You look as tired as I feel," Ziva muttered as she dropped into the chair beside the doctor. Keller jumper, and looked around before chuckling.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling so well," Keller admitted, shoving a fist into her mouth to bite back a yawn. At Ziva's raised eyebrow and obvious worry, she shook her head.

"Oh, no, it's not anything like the virus," she told the NCIS officer. "One of the few things we know about this thing is the symptoms, or at least, the obvious ones. We know Ranger, Lorne and Reilly had uncontrollable anger up to the point where they were homicidal." She gave a sad smile. "Me? I'm just tired."

Ziva decided to leave the good doctor's wellbeing at that. "Do we know anything about earlier symptoms?" she asked, glancing at the computer screen. But she was in no way a doctor, and the medical pictures and terms just floated past her eyes. "Because I do not fancy having to wait for someone trying to kill me before I know they are infected."

Keller shrugged with her head. "I know what you mean. And I'm working on it," she sighed. "But without being able to find this virus in the bloodstream, or anywhere, in fact… there's not much more I can do yet. I've got the blood samples from everyone who was at the alpha site, including yourself. But before I can run them, I need to analyse Lorne and Reilly's blood tests so I know what kind of differences I need to look for in anyone possibly infected."

"All of which sounds incredibly complicated," Ziva agreed, leaning back in her chair. "So, found anything from Lorne or Reilly yet?"

"Similar findings to what we found in Ranger, to a degree. Lorne's further along, and he's showing signs of kidney failure. His temperature is through the roof." She shook her head and grabbed a slide from beside the microscope. "I've been pretty busy with everything, so I haven't had a chance to study Lorne's blood that one of the marines took earlier. I was just about to do that when you came in. Hopefully it will be more helpful than Rang-."

A crash from deeper inside the infirmary cut her off suddenly, and after sharing a quick look, they both leapt to their feet, racing towards the inner room.

They found Sheppard getting slowly to his feet, looking a strange mix of guilty and annoyed. An overturned tray lay beside him, its contents still rolling around on the floor.

"Colonel!" Keller gasped with exasperation, moving to his side to help him up. He gave her an embarrassed smile as he stood up straighter, an arm around his ribs.

"Sorry, doc. I was hoping you wouldn't know…"

Keller actually growled. "What the hell were you doing? No, let me guess." She glanced over her shoulder at where Lorne's bed sat, surrounded by curtains. Ziva looked as well, finding one side of the curtains withdrawn slightly. The doctor sighed. "You _know_ you shouldn't be on your feet. Not only will you aggravate your ribs, but I'm thinking that just now your concussion – from hitting the window of a _jumper_, a window designed to withstand space, weapons fire -."

Sheppard scowled at her as she helped him back into the bed. "Yeah, okay, doc. I know, okay! I do… I was just worried."

"Well, doing yourself more injury is not going to help Major Lorne any," she reminded him.

"I know," the colonel muttered darkly. "But the one thing that might is off limits."

He was back in the bed by then, and scowling at Keller as she pulled the sheets over him like a worried mother. "Don't take that out on me," the doc told him. "Or your stitches for that matter. Look, there's nothing you could do even if Woolsey did allow a team to go. You're in no shape to be jumping around trying to save the day. Why don't you let someone else do that for once?"

Sheppard only gave sullen silence in return, but that seemed to be enough for Keller. She gave a sharp nod and turned to go back to her work.

Ziva decided not to bother her, grabbing a stool and dragging it over to Sheppard's bed, staring at him until he stopped staring sulkily at his covers.

Which seemed to be taking a while. She twitched a corner of her mouth and then crossed her arms. "Pouting does not suit you."

To her surprise, Sheppard chuckled and looked up at her, rubbing his eyes. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" He put his hand down, glanced at the other, bandaged one. "But if now's not the time to try, when is? What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find something to do," she answered honestly. "We know what is apparently causing this whole situation, and apparently it is not something in which NCIS can contribute to the solving." She shrugged. "So, here I am, trying to figure out things that I know nothing about."

He looked a bit surprised about her honesty. "Well, there you go." He grinned. "You could try getting down to why you're supposedly here."

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to the training program he had brought them out here to handle. "I don't think so. I'd be too preoccupied trying to figure out which of my students was about to go homicidal on me."

Sheppard glanced at Lorne's bed again. "I know what you mean," he muttered seriously. His non-dislocated hand cracked as he tightened a fist. "Dammit, I just feel so _useless_ here! Is someone working on that jumper?" he demanded. "Figuring out why it crashed? I mean, those things are not supposed to just stop working!"

She nodded. "I believe Dr Zelenka is working on what could be retrieved. I think he said something about the jumper's… 'black box'."

"What about McKay?" he asked. "He's always spouting about how he's so much smarter."

"Like you, he's restricted to light duties," she reminded him. "Come on, Colonel, you know this."

Sheppard sighed. "I know. I know." He leaned back deeper into his pillows. "Doesn't mean I have to -."

Five sirens once again cut him off, and the outer doors to the infirmary swished shut, cutting the colonel off as they both turned to stare through the closed doors in an uncomfortably silent infirmary.

"What is it?" Ziva asked, getting off the stool.

Sheppard moved as if to get up, but he restrained himself. "Quarantine, I think," he told her. "Same as what happened when I was in with Lorne. But that only lasted a minute or so. This shouldn't be any longer…"

They waited, on the edge of their seats. Across the road Dawson sat up, listening into the conversation, while around them any of the injured marines who happened to be awake looked to be on the verge of storming out of the infirmary, injuries or no. But they all waited. And waited.

Two silent minutes later, Ziva turned back to Sheppard. He glanced at her, back at the door, and then cursed under his breath. Then he nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Okay, we might have a problem."

* * *

To McGee's relief he found one of the two people he was searching for in the office of the one man he needed to see. If he was right, that was.

In any case, he raced across the walkway, interrupting Zelenka and Woolsey in what appeared to be an argument. They both stopped talking, Woolsey removing hands from hips, both turning to face the NCIS agent.

"Can I help you, Agent McGee?" Woolsey asked, returning to his seat behind the desk.

"Actually, I was looking for Dr Zelenka," he told them both, spinning the computer on his palm and offering it to the scientist.

The man said something in Czech, a short word that McGee took as a swear word, before taking the computer from the NCIS agent, staring at the screen carefully as he placed the laptop on the table. Then he shook his head.

"What were you looking at?" Woolsey demanded, glancing from Radek to the agent.

McGee shrugged. "Just what Dr Zelenka showed me earlier. Basically recordings from Atlantis' systems, from yesterday and today, showing how the systems interacted and operated. And then I noticed these…blips."

"Aye, blips indeed," Zelenka murmured as he stood up straighter. "This is exactly what I was talking about to you, Mr Woolsey."

The expedition leader frowned. "What, the problem with the jumper that crashed?" The man shook his head. "It's unreliable data that we managed to retrieve from a now completely useless, mangled, half gone machine."

"That 'unreliable data' showed that the jumper had some kind of virus," Radek reminded him. "Or, more precisely, that it was suffering from the effects of some kind of computer virus."

"But you couldn't find anything," Woolsey reminded right back. They both seemed to have forgotten the NCIS agent. Something which McGee was used to, but not about to put up with. Not today.

"Hang on," the probie interrupted. "You mean, like the virus that's infecting Major Lorne, and Reilly."

Woolsey sat back, shaking his head, denying once more. "Except a computer cannot catch a human disease, Agent McGee." His very tone suggested the idea was more than preposterous.

"I thought anything could happen in the Pegasus Galaxy," McGee pointed out with only a touch of attitude. The commander heard it in any case and frowned, but the probie hadn't finished. "Besides, I thought you said you couldn't find the virus."

"We cannot. Much like Dr Keller cannot find the virus in Major Lorne," Zelenka answered, looking at both men. "But in any case, the jumper showed… symptoms, you could call them, of having a virus."

"Like Major Lorne does," McGee agreed.

"It has to be coincidence," Woolsey snapped. "The basic chemistry of humans and computers is too different. Even I know that!"

"I agree," Radek told him. "But the timing is too close for there to be no correlation. Especially seeing as Atlantis' systems have been showing same 'symptoms' in the past day."

"What are you talking about?" Woolsey demanded. It was about there that McGee was beginning to lose him too. He knew enough to detect the problem, not enough to decipher it.

Zelenka sighed. "The jumper, and the city itself, cannot obviously show symptoms of a virus like a human can. It cannot increase its temperature, or create extra white blood cells. But there are signs of it fighting something, like a disease. Or rather, of it having been fighting. The city keeps…" He paused, shifting, before lifting his hands, for no obvious purpose. "Earlier, we had that strange computer, er, glitch, like a quarantine being initiated. Like the city was getting tired, and losing the battle to fight off this disease. So it stopped fighting something."

"But if it was the same thing," Woolsey said with a confused frown, "Wouldn't the city be fighting _to_ initiate a quarantine."

That seemed to stump the Czech. "I suppose. Who knows? Maybe it was winning the battle. We do not know what effect this virus may be having. But we have noticed other things. Secondary systems failing for a split second or two. Bumps in power supply. Maybe the jumper died when it couldn't fight the disease anymore. I would also be willing to bet that power consumption has increased in the last day."

Woolsey rubbed his face and sighed. "Bottomline it for me, Dr Zelenka. Do we have a problem?"

Radek glanced at the computer screen. "When I thought it was just the jumper, we would not have. Now… now, I am worried."

There was a moment of silence, before Woolsey sighed again, looking stressed beyond reason. He opened his mouth to speak again, but pounding feet once again interrupted him.

McGee turned to see his boss approaching at a jog, and – to his surprise – Dr McKay by his side, wincing with every jarring step, and Ronon just behind them both.

"We have a problem," McKay announced as soon as they were close enough to be heard. But before he could elaborate, the scientist doubled over, breathing hard. "Oh, room's spinning."

Gibbs glanced down at McKay but just shook his head. Ronon's look wasn't so forgiving. "Reports are coming in from over the city," the agent told them before either expedition member could open his mouth. "Some of your men have just…"

He didn't get to finish as Woolsey raced past, with a snapped, "How do you even know that?" for Agent Gibbs.

The NCIS senior agent followed, trying not to smirk. "I was in the control room when they started coming in. I needed to talk to you anyway -."

"Whatever you want, that can wait," Woolsey told him, looking up as computer started beeping all over the control room, giving warnings that Woolsey tried to ignore for now. "Amelia, what's going on?"

The technician just shook her head, one hand to her headset. "I don't know sir. We just started getting distress calls. But it seems that three of the marines who returned with Colonel Sheppard from the alpha site, the first time, have started opening fire, shouting… the reports are pretty mixed, sir."

Woolsey leaned down on the console. "Seal off those sections, the rooms where those men are. We can't have them -."

Five loud wails of the city's alarms, and then doors slamming shut, and locking soundly, cut him off, as everyone spun in different directions to stare at different closing doors. Banks looked down at her computer, going white.

"That wasn't me," she muttered, looking back up at Woolsey. "Something just initiated quarantine again."

Stunned at the sudden loss of control of things throughout Atlantis – a city so unbelievably advanced – McGee glanced at those surrounding him. "What do we do now?"

* * *

Lol, back to the uh oh's! I'll try to post tomorrow night, but I have a busy week, with tonnes due in, and a booze cruise, and then Easter on Friday... what I'm trying to say is posts might not be exactly consistent this week. Anyway, see you later!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Okay, found five minutes to post, or forced myself to, cause I probably won't be posting tomorrow night... or Wednesday night (booze cruise) or Thursday night (Nott night) and possible not Friday night (might be going to see a friend). I will try, cause I hate making you guys wait, especially seeing as you all say such nice things to me! But when reality calls...

I know, kinda sound like a broken record, but wanted you guys to know.

On with the story then!

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Chapter 12

"Control tower, this is Sheppard. What the hell is going on?"

Gibbs wanted to know the answers to that himself. He glanced from Woolsey to the technician, Amelia. She looked lost though, spreading her arms wide.

"It's a level three quarantine," she told them. "But that's all I know."

"Control tower? Do you copy?"

Sheppard sounded slightly panicked. Woolsey leaned down to put him out of his misery. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Woolsey -."

"Don't give me a heart attack like that!" Sheppard snapped, interrupting him. "What the hell is happening?"

"We're not sure yet, colonel," Woolsey told him. "It seems the city has initiated a level three quarantine."

"Why?" Sheppard demanded. "Don't we have everyone infected quarantined? Else it would have gone into quarantine immediately, wouldn't it?"

"The city seems to be experiencing some… malfunctions," Woolsey sighed, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. "And it seems three men slipped under its radar in the meantime."

"You mean three men from the alpha site." Sheppard growled under his breath. "I'm coming up there."

"How?" McKay interrupted. "Level three quarantine means we can communicate, but all sections are sealed shut. You'll be able to move around a few corridors away from the infirmary, but any access to the control tower will be barred."

Sheppard growled again. "So what are we going to do about the three men running lose when they're infected by a virus that apparently makes them homicidal?"

Before McKay could even answer, Woolsey leaned in. "_We_ are going to do nothing, Colonel Sheppard. You are unable to get to us, and what's more, you're injured. Let us do our job without further interruption, please."

There was no please about his tone, nor any about the way he slammed his finger down on the communications button, effectively shutting Sheppard off from the control tower. Then, sighing, Woolsey looked up at those surrounding him.

"Okay. What are the options?"

McKay backed away, going over to a console where a laptop sat unused. "Level three means those men are sealed off in sections with others. I'll take a better look at this quarantine, see if the system gives us a reason, or better yet, a way to counter the quarantine."

Noticing a distinct lack of military minds in the surrounding area – not including Ronon, of course – Gibbs stepped forward. "You need to contact your marines, see who might be in the same areas as those marines who have the virus. Those infected men need to be taken care of."

"What, and risk infecting further people?" Woolsey demanded. "I'm not putting more lives in danger!"

"It has to be done," Gibbs snapped. "You can't have those three men running around making people panic." Seeing Woolsey about to baulk anyway, the NCIS agent added, "Besides, according to the timeline Mills gave us, it's taken, what, at least… twenty-four hours for these symptoms to manifest in these marines, from the time they met up with those who went to the lab, to now. Which means you would have time to find a cure for those men. Tell them to hunt down these men, subdue them, and then each and every man needs to be quarantined."

"Besides, not everyone seems to be infected," McKay piped in from his console. "Sheppard brought back eight marines when he brought back Holt and Lorne this morning. Only three of them have gone… AWOL."

Woolsey didn't say anything for a minute. And then he sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "You're right. Dammit, why didn't I think of that?" He didn't let Gibbs point out the obvious, just turned to Amelia. "Get in touch with every marine and locate them," he ordered. "Tell any within the sections where the infected men are to do what they can to subdue them. I want non-lethal force though – they're sick, not enemies."

Amelia got to work instantly, while Woolsey turned once more to the NCIS agents. "You were right, Agent Gibbs. Sometimes we need to take risks." He turned around to where McKay's jaw had nearly hit the floor. "Doctor, hand that over to Doctor Zelenka. You're flying the jumper to check out this Ancient lab."

"I am?" McKay asked, eyes going wide as well.

"He is?" Gibbs and Zelenka added together. The Czech continued. "Sir, what if Rodney's been infected as well?"

Woolsey nodded firmly. "I am aware of that possibility, Doctor Zelenka," the commander told him. "But we're in the middle of a quarantine, and he's the only one in the control tower both with the Ancient gene, and with enough flying experience to get there and back inside the time limit he would have before he goes. It's been just over ten hours since you were at the alpha site. That still leaves fourteen. He's the only option"

"Oh, God, I am, aren't I," McKay muttered, standing up. "Don't you have like, some marine who can drive?"

"I'm beginning to think I need every marine I can have, here, Doctor McKay. Besides, aren't you the smartest man here?"

Grumbling, McKay stepped down heavily from the platform. "Why does everyone always chuck my words back in my face at the worst possible time? Okay, okay, I'll do it!"

"There wasn't any choice about it, McKay," Ronon told him. "I'm going too."

"Yes. Take a team of marines as well, ones who haven't even thought about the alpha site. And you're going to take a doctor, as well."

"And my team," Gibbs interjected.

McGee nodded in support, somewhat too quickly, but he squared his shoulders and managed to even look calm. "Are we able to get any gear?" he asked. His voice betrayed only the slightest worry.

"There's gear still in jumper three," McKay told them all absentmindedly. "The real question is, how do we get a doctor up here? Won't they all be quarantined in the infirmary?"

As if she knew they were talking about a doctor, Biro's voice suddenly broke over the radio. "Mr Woolsey, I need to speak to you."

"We're sort in a crisis at the moment, Doctor. Just wait a moment." Woolsey went to turn away but Biro's voice interrupted again, sounding anxious.

"No, I can't," she declared. "Sir, I need to talk to you about -."

"Can't it wait, doctor? We've got people -."

And for the second time that day, the good doctor spoke right over him. "No, it can't wait. You need to hear this."

Apparently Woolsey disagreed. "Well, it will have to. Just give us a moment." And he turned back to his team. "There's got to be someone," he half-asked. "I mean, it's the control tower. There's always someone in it."

"Actually, sir," Amelia interjected. "There isn't. All the doctors are either in the infirmary or in their quarters."

"What?" the commander demanded. "You're kidding me? There's no one… no doctors to handle any injured, and no marines to stop those men."

"No, there's plenty of marines in the same sections as the three infected. They're already starting to try to round them up. Teyla and Agent DiNozzo are aiding them."

"What about Ziva?" Gibbs asked, knowing she was probably the better at handling this type of volatile situation. What could he say, there was something about being a Mossad officer that just helped one prepare for these kind of occurrences.

But the technician shook her head. "She's stuck in the infirmary."

It wasn't looking good. Gibbs didn't like being separated from his team when three men – sick or not – were walking around as potential ticking bombs.

Glancing at Woolsey, he decided he also didn't like the fact that there weren't any marines in the control tower who could guard entrances, keep the peace and stop those potential ticking bombs from entering the control room and potentially killing a bunch of civilians.

"McGee, you go with Ronon and McKay," he ordered.

Both the probie and the Atlantis commander didn't like that idea. "But, boss -," McGee began, before Woolsey talked right over the top of him.

"I know what you're thinking, Agent Gibbs -."

Gibbs gave him a taste of his own medicine. "Good. Then you know that if both Ronon and I go you won't have any military personnel who can direct your marines. I served in the Corp, Mr Woolsey. I know how to handle your men."

"So what, only three of us go to the lab?" McKay asked, sounding worried about that. "We've all been to the alpha site," he reminded the leader. "What if… _it_ hits us all?"

"It's a risk we have to take," Woolsey snapped, seeing Gibbs' point. "We don't have anyone else, Dr McKay. Now, go. I want you back within seven hours. If this remains consistent, that will leave plenty of time for us to find a cure from any data you retrieve."

"You mean before we go homicidal," McKay muttered as he walked off, Ronon and McGee on his tail. Watching them go, Gibbs took a deep, mental breath before turning back to Woolsey and the technician.

"Okay, I need to know where everyone is, and what they have on them."

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Sheppard shouted as Woolsey cut him off from what was happening. Then, frustrated beyond all reason, he grabbed the radio from his ear and threw it as hard as he could against the far wall.

And got a spike of pain through his ribs for his efforts.

Leaning over, he took a few deep breathes, ignoring the smaller spikes that caused, and trying to ignore Ziva's smug smirk and Keller's reproachful glare.

"I know," he told them both. "You don't have to say a word."

"Good," Keller said sternly, uncrossing her arms. "There's nothing you can do, Colonel."

"I should still be up there," he snapped. "Damn jumper, why the hell would it die like that? I need to talk to Zelenka. He was working on it, wasn't he? Does he know something yet?"

"Colonel!" Keller cried with exasperation. "How would I know? I've been here, looking after you, remember? And I think now he's got something bigger to think about. As do I. Don't make me come in here again, please? I need to run these tests."

"Sorry, doc," Sheppard apologised. It sounded sincere enough that Keller turned and walked back to her station, ordering her staff as she went. They responded immediately, beginning to set up for any influx of patients. Further influx, John amended as he took in the lack of empty beds.

When he looked back Ziva was still smirking at him with a smug grin. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing." She got down from her stool. "Do you want another radio? You can still listen in, can't you?"

Trying to understand her effort, he nodded, leaning back in his bed. She grabbed another radio and returned, sliding it into place in her own ear.

"On second thought," she told him. "I don't think Captain Dawson would like you throwing another radio at his head."

Sheppard refused to even glance at the suddenly busy captain across the aisle between beds, understanding Ziva's earlier show of compassion.

For all the calm on her face, she wanted to be out there, helping and knowing just as much as him.

The amusement he felt at that died as a look of worry came over her face. She shook her head. "Three men from the alpha site have started attacking people," she told him. Apparently Keller had just heard the same news over her own radio, because she was suddenly abandoning her computer and getting up to help her people set up the infirmary for any injuries. Ziva continued. "The city is cut off into sections. Teyla is leading a team of marines through the East pier after two of the men. Tony is with another team after the other marine."

Sheppard tried not to hit the bed again – it had being taking a lot of the brunt of his frustration already – and instead gripped the sheets hard, grinding his teeth. "You mean, before they realise they're attacking their own people and become depressed enough about it to try and kill themselves."

They both avoided glancing at the two cubicles cut off by curtains. Behind one, Reilly was somehow still clinging to life, while apparently Lorne was just getting worse as the virus ravaged his body and his temperature climbed.

"Woolsey is finally letting a team go to the lab," she told him. "McGee, Ronon and McKay are just going through the gate."

"What?" Sheppard demanded, bolting upright. "No. That is not…" He swallowed what he had been about to say and shook his head. "If they can go, I can. It's just a few broken ribs, and Rodney really isn't the best -."

"You're not going anywhere, Colonel Sheppard," Ziva ordered in her best authoritative tone. "You're injured."

"So are McKay and Ronon!" he told her, in a voice that made him sound like a petulant child in comparison to Ziva's command. He threw back the covers, ready to disembark.

"Not as badly as you," Keller interrupted from nowhere. "Colonel, do I have to sedate you?"

The threat was clear, but still Sheppard hovered in that motion that came only an instant before getting up. He was ready, and only pausing to weigh Dr Keller's resolve in his mind.

Ziva decided to stop him from doing something he was likely to regret. "Are you forgetting, Colonel Sheppard, that the city is under quarantine? Could you even get to the control tower, or the jumper bay? According to what I am hearing, the transporters are offline, and the city is -."

Suddenly she paused, while beside her, Keller went still, shock clear across her face. Sheppard waited, impatiently, before swinging his legs over the of the bed, Keller's threat be damned.

"What is it?" he asked in a challenging voice. "Doc? Keller? Jennifer!"

Keller shook her head, clearing her throat before she could even speak. "A report from a team of marines who were going after two of the marines from the alpha site. They just escaped from the quarantine of the East pier."

"What?" Sheppard asked, his voice less challenging and more confused. "They got through a door somehow? Do you know how hard it is to get through those doors?"

"For them it was easy," Ziva told him, recovered from the shock. Maybe because she didn't know Atlantis like he did, or maybe because she was just better at handling stress than Keller. Either way, she just sighed. "The doors opened for them, just like there was no quarantine at all. And then closed right behind them. Only Teyla managed to get through to follow them."

Sheppard felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Is she all right? Someone needs to tell her to back off!"

"She's fine, John, she stopped following as soon as she realised she was alone," Keller told him. "The problem is that she saw them get in a transporter as well. Apparently the quarantine doesn't apply for them."

Her words had the sense of being unfinished. "What is it?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

Keller and Ziva shared a glance, before the doc looked down, and the agent looked at him. "According to Teyla they're very annoyed that their own men are hunting them down." She and Keller shared another look. "And they're headed this way."

* * *

Oo, sorry... I swear, I'll try to post... no promises... whoops...


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Ha ha, finally found time to post! Yippee say all! Happy Easter everyone!

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Chapter 13

"They're headed _where_?" Gibbs demanded, leaning down on the console beside Amelia.

She eyed him sideways before sitting up straighter. "They're in the section where the infirmary is," she repeated. Then added slowly, "And it looks like they're headed there."

"Get on the radio to Ziva," he ordered. "Tell her to arm herself."

"If she can," Woolsey told him, coming up to the console himself. "It's the infirmary. What do you expect to be there?"

"I learnt my lesson, Mr Woolsey," Keller's voice suddenly called over the radio. "We have a few weapons stashed in here now."

Woolsey just closed his eyes and turned away. Gibbs barely heard his muttered, "I knew she was spending too much time with Ronon."

Keller hadn't finished. "And Colonel Sheppard, Captain Dawson and Sergeant Holden have kindly offered their services."

She didn't sound pleased about it though. Gibbs found he didn't care. "There's not much you can do about that now, doc. Just get ready. If they can get through this quarantine somehow…"

He let the words hang in the air, but Keller got it. "Ziva and Sheppard are setting up now. We'll let you know what happens."

Gibbs didn't reply, just turned to Amelia. "Get me DiNozzo. He's in that section, isn't he?"

"Uh, already here, boss," the other man called over the communications. "You're talking to everyone at once, so…"

Gibbs felt the incredible urge to smack his agent over the back of the head and put the thought away for later. "DiNozzo, get as close to the infirmary as you can. See if you or one of the marines can get them out."

"I doubt that," Zelenka called from over the other side of the room. "The city's systems are still, er, frazzled. Doors keep becoming more secure, or less, but the infirmary has stayed completely locked since quarantine began. However, I may be able to get the transporters back online."

"Well, do it," Gibbs ordered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Zelenka got the look he got when he worked with McKay, but he didn't say a word, just went back to work.

"We're still following our own marine," DiNozzo interrupted the silence. "But according to one of these men, it looks like he's heading to the infirmary as well."

"I've got the transporters online!" Zelenka called. "It was just a matter of -."

"It doesn't matter, doctor," Gibbs told him before he could get carried away. Scientists usually did. "Teyla, can you get to the infirmary section?"

"I'm already on my way," the Athosian woman replied. "I need to know exactly where they are."

"Coordinate with DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered her. "Doctor Keller, are you ready for this?"

"I don't even know what this is," she rebutted. "But both Colonel Sheppard and Ziva think we are, so I'm taking their word for it."

Gibbs decided that maybe he should be talking to his agent instead. "Ziva, can you hear them yet?"

"Not yet," she told him. "But these doors are pretty thick. I'm not sure we will at all."

"Just keep on your toes," he answered in a calming voice. Not that Ziva needed it. But apparently everyone was hanging on to his every word.

"We're catching up now, boss." Tony's voice was a whisper. "In fact, they're just around the corner. Do we move forward?"

"Just a moment, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. "Teyla, where are you?"

"I'm just coming up from the opposite direction. I can see them. They've stopped. They look confused. And sick."

"That would be because they are," the senior agent reminded her. "Okay, both of you move forward."

"Stunners only, if you've got them," Woolsey added, moving to join the conversation again. If Gibbs had known the man for longer than a day and a half, he would have been astounded by how much the man had changed since the day he had taken over the leadership of Atlantis.

"Stun, if you can," Gibbs reinforced. "Just stop them from making this entire city panic."

"Read you loud and clear, Boss," DiNozzo muttered. "We're moving forward."

* * *

Feeling odd leading a team of marines on a hunt for more marines, Tony inched forward, a borrowed pistol up and aimed, ready to fire at less than a moment's warning. Behind him the five marines were just as on edge.

The three infected men didn't see them at first. They had paused, only just down the hall from the doors to the infirmary, and seemed to be talking. DiNozzo had heard Teyla talking with Gibbs, and he had to disagree. These men didn't look confused. Sick, yes, with sweat dripping down their pale faces, but not confused. If anything, they still looked angry. Just like they had when they had started shouting only twenty minutes ago.

Within seconds, they could all see Teyla coming up from the opposite direction, P90 against her chest, Wraith stunner in her hands. The marine beside DiNozzo tightened his grip on his own stunner.

"Hold it!" the sergeant shouted. "Put your hands up and turn around slowly!"

The three infected men stopped what they were doing, but that was about the extent of their obedience. Two turned to face the team of marines DiNozzo was leading, while the third turned towards Teyla.

"Put your hands on your head," the sergeant warned again. "I don't want to tell you again."

One of the two smirked, and his hand flinched towards the gun holstered at his side. But none of them grabbed their weapons, only skittered on their feet.

"What have they told you, sergeant?" one of the men asked, the one who was smirking. "Whatever they said, they're lying."

It sounded frustrated, and angry, bitter, tense. The sergeant shook his head. "They told me you were sick, Shone. And I gotta be honest, from what I can see they're the ones telling the truth."

"No!" Shone shouted, taking a deep step forward. "They're lying! They lie to us all! We're just doing our job!"

"And what job is that?" the sergeant demanded, taking a step forward as well. "Just put your hands on your head, Shone. Let us help you."

Shone was having none of it, and they all knew it. "If you're not with us," he told them, snarling, hand moving ever close to his sidearm. "Then you're obviously against us!"

And he reached for his gun.

"Don't!" DiNozzo shouted, his voice not alone. The men – not just Shone – didn't listen, and a second later the hallway was filled with shots and stunner blasts.

The blasts hit the three men, but they stayed standing, the energy overload to their nervous system nothing in comparison to whatever was running amok in their bodies.

The bullet that hit the sergeant beside DiNozzo didn't go over so easily.

He fell, and the rest of the team moved to find cover. DiNozzo darted for the middle of the room, where there were three columns, filled with that strange liquid and covered in those shapes particular to the Ancients.

He barely registered where the marines around him ran to find cover. Two of them grabbed the downed sergeant as they made for the wall. The other two sought the same shield as DiNozzo, but he barely even glanced at them as he looked down the corridor, trying to find Teyla.

He breathed a sigh of relief to see her taking cover against the wall. But that relief was short lived as he watched the third infected marine marching down the hall towards her.

But he couldn't do anything about that, not with the other two men strolling his way.

"Stop!" he shouted, though there was probably no need to yell. In fact, speaking on a whole proved useless, because the two marines didn't stop. They just brought their guns up once more to take aim.

DiNozzo didn't have to do anything. The four remaining members of his team fired repeatedly with their stunners. Blast after blast hit the two coming at them, and finally, after what seemed forever, the two fell to their knees, eyes closing, sinking closer and closer to unconsciousness.

The picture behind them wasn't so good.

The other marine had reached Teyla in the time it had taken for four marines and their Wraith stunners to blast two men into unconsciousness. Apparently unwilling to shoot the man with potentially fatal P90 fire, even after the uselessness of the single Wraith stunner, she had left the gun against her chest.

The infected marine hadn't appreciated the gesture of mercy. Even as he approached, picking up speed, he moved to lash out, before any of them could do anything.

It was only a punch, and Teyla, being Teyla, managed to block his strike with practiced ease. But whatever the virus was, it wasn't just affecting their mental state. Even as Teyla blocked the punch, the force behind it slammed her into the wall with a strength that made the entire corridor crackle.

And even as four stunner blasts hit the last infected marine, sending him sprawling forward, the Athosian woman slid down the wall, landing in a heap on the ground.

DiNozzo dashed forward, keeping his gun out, just in case any of the marines on the ground were faking their hard-earned unconsciousness. One of his team started calling for a med team, ducking down to plug the bullet wound in the sergeant's gut, just above his legs.

Tony barely noticed, sliding to his knees beside Teyla and rolling her over. He heaved a sigh of relief when she gave a groan. "Just hold on, Teyla, we've got a med team on the way."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," one of the marines securing the downed men called out. "We're still in quarantine. Who knows if the med team can even get here?"

"Gibbs?" Tony called over his radio.

"Yeah, we've been listening, DiNozzo," the older agent replied, but to the younger man's ears the uncertainty was clear. "Dr Zelenka's working on getting the quarantine lifted."

"Check out the infirmary," DiNozzo ordered. Below him Teyla shifted and opened her eyes – her slightly glazed eyes. "Just hold still, Teyla."

Twenty feet down the corridor one of Tony's marines knocked on the doors to the infirmary. A second later someone pounded back, but the doors remained closed.

"It's no good," Ziva's voice appeared on the radio. "Colonel Sheppard is doing what he can with the panel, but he keeps on muttering about being no McKay."

"Well, I'm not!" Sheppard snapped in reply. There was a sound of strain in his voice, but no doubt the stubborn colonel had forgotten all about his broken ribs. "Is everyone okay?"

"Sergeant Wade is down," the man at the door replied. "Shone shot him before we could take them down. And Teyla hit the wall pretty hard."

"I'm fine," the Athosian told everyone, sitting up without even the slightest hint of dizziness. DiNozzo helped her slowly to her feet. "It is Sergeant Wade we need to take care of."

"We're still doing what we can," Gibbs told them all.

"But it's not looking good, is it?" Sheppard demanded.

There was a moment of silence. Then Woolsey decided to be honest. "No, Colonel. It's not. Dr Zelenka is still working on it, but it seems once the infected men were taken care of, the city upped the quarantine to a level four. No door is opening, anywhere in the city, and the power to the transporters has been cut."

"So, what do we do?" DiNozzo questioned with more than a touch of snap. "We just sit here while your man bleeds to death."

"I can talk you through helping him," Keller told them.

"No, I need you working on a cure, or at least a diagnosis, Doctor," Woolsey commanded, taking charge once again now that the military emergency had been taken care of. "Get someone else to talk someone through it."

"So, what now?" DiNozzo demanded. "Do we just sit here? Cause I'm not that great at just sitting."

"See if you can find a room, and quarantine yourselves," Gibbs ordered, not about to just let go yet. "Until we figure out what this is, and how to beat it, we can't risk any further exposure."

"Aye, aye, captain," DiNozzo muttered, starting the search for an open door.

* * *

Everyone in the control room heaved a sigh of relief as the final report of a subdued, sick marine filtered in. Even knowing that it was only the beginning, that the three men had been stopped before they could do more than hurt anyone was a weight off all their shoulders.

Woolsey put a hand on his back, stiff from leaning over and staying tense in the time it had taken for DiNozzo, Teyla and the marines to take down the three sick men who had made their way to the infirmary.

Gibbs watched him carefully, standing up slowly. But the commander of Atlantis didn't stay quiet for long, instead turning to the team available to him. "Okay, we need to get back control of Atlantis. Dr Zelenka, continue working on getting this quarantine lowered."

The Czech scientist only nodded over the computer where he was doing just that, but Woolsey didn't even see it, turning instead towards the technicians surrounding other consoles. "Amelia, I need to know the position and status of everyone on this base. I want a report on it in twenty minutes. Rope in anyone else you might need," he added, seeing her about to argue about the short amount of time given to her.

Woolsey turned again as the people around him got down to business, before sitting in a vacated chair, obviously trying to get some rest in the short time before he had to get back to work.

No such luck. A second later, Dr Biro's annoyed voice came over the radio. "Is this a good time now, Mr Woolsey?"

Woolsey scowled, but hit the button. "Go ahead, doctor. Crisis averted."

Biro's voice showed the scowl they couldn't see. "I found out some more from Ranger's body, sir. And I was going to warn you that people could be becoming angry and potentially homicidal at any moment."

Woolsey did scowl. "A warning that ultimately proved too late."

She ignored the accusation. "That wasn't all, Mr Woolsey. After not finding anything in his blood to indicate the presence of a virus, besides the usual, you know, high temperature, kidney failure -."

"If you hadn't noticed, doctor, we're on the clock. Get to the point." Woolsey wasn't about to take her well-meaning but annoyingly lengthy discussions today.

"I redid Ranger's blood test, analysing it further, and with more scrutiny. We had assumed we would find some trace of the virus in his brain, because an altered mental state was one of the symptoms. While some viruses can yes, potentially change a person's personality, the majority of them attack the brain. We looked there because the brain controls everything, including the production of certain enzymes and hormones that create our moods and emotions."

"I'm guessing you didn't find anything in the brain, then," Gibbs deciphered before Woolsey could even open his mouth. "What did you find?"

"After talking with Peterson, I determined that the virus takes twenty hours to make a person become so angry they are homicidal."

"Wait, what?" Woolsey demanded, looking up. "But it's been twenty-four hours since the lab team arrived back at the alpha site, hasn't it?"

"True, according to what I have found out from Peterson," she agreed. "Corporal Ranger, who was the first to come into contact with the virus at this lab, died around ten hours ago, but it was twenty since he had been in that lab. Now, he was checking it out with Lieutenant Marsh, who, we all know, didn't become sick. According to Peterson, Ranger and Marsh met up with Major Lorne and Private Burnie, the other two members of the team, five hours later. And, lo and behold, five hours after Ranger became homicidal, Major Lorne followed suit."

"Get to the point quicker, Dr Biro?" Woolsey demanded bluntly.

The doctor's good nature finally broke, and she snapped at the commander. "The point is, Mr Woolsey, that this virus is working too similarly in its victims for my own comfort. The lab team returned to the alpha site three hours after we assume Lorne was infected, and, three hours later, we find the alpha site in ruins, and Reilly claiming responsibility. And who knows if others were involved."

"But Shone and the others became noticeably sick a good three hours after Reilly," Woolsey pointed out. "And I'm still not seeing the point."

"Ah, but according to Peterson, Shone and the others were scouting the area and didn't return until three hours after Lorne and his team," Biro explained.

Gibbs had been listening in and finally shared a look with Woolsey. "We gave McGee, Ronon and McKay seven hours," he reminded. "If they're even a little bit late…"

"I know," Woolsey muttered. "Amelia, quarantine's back on three, dial the alpha site, see if you can get a hold of Dr McKay. We need to warn them that they could be… sooner."

Apparently Dr Biro hadn't finished though. "That's not all, Mr Woolsey. The point I wanted to make is that I don't think this virus is naturally occurring."

"What are you saying, Dr Biro?" Gibbs asked while Woolsey frowned in thought. Behind them the Stargate erupted into life. "You think this virus was created?"

"We've seen evidence before that the Ancients were experimenting with… diseases, nanoviruses. And it was found in an Ancient lab. And the results…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "And the results from Ranger's revised blood test can only confirm my suspicions."

"I thought you didn't find any evidence of the virus," Woolsey reminded her.

"And I didn't," the doctor admitted. "Again, I only found… well, evidence that the virus had been there. There were trace amounts of chemicals in Ranger's blood work. Chemicals – from what I can tell, they were hormones, and enzymes of some kind, for the most part. Obviously ones that induce anger, and rage. But hormones and enzymes that I've never seen before in any human of any kind. They're not human, which means they're probably not Ancient either. They're completely alien."

Woolsey rubbed his eyes only a second before Amelia turned to him, worry in her eyes. "Ah, sir… I tried contacting Dr McKay. They're not responding."

* * *

I hope I explained it all right... There's more to it, but people's guesses are getting closer and closer. And don't worry, next chapter we'll see what McKay, Ronon and McGee are up to.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Okay, major broken record complex here, but I won't be able to post for a few nights. Don't worry, after Tuesday, it should be a lot more constant, but I am going home for Easter, and as you know... no internet. Blame the rentals, not me, but still, sorry!

And thanks to everyone who's reviewed!

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Chapter 14

It was night as the jumper sailed out of the Stargate, through the jagged jaws of the destroyed puddle jumper and out into the dark air of what had once been Atlantis' alpha site.

Having missed the destruction of the jumper the first time around, McKay and McGee both whistled, and then shared a look as they mimicked one another. In the seat beside Rodney, Ronon snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"I fail to see what's so funny about that crash," McKay snapped as he flew the puddle jumper into the atmosphere, high above the tree tops.

"Of course you do," Ronon retorted with far less seriousness. Not that he actually found anything amusing at all about the crash. He had been lucky to survive, his friends even more so. But Rodney was too thick – willingly so – to realize exactly what had the Satedan laughing.

McGee got it, scowling from the seat behind McKay. "How long will it take us to reach this lab?" he asked, determined to change the subject.

"Not as long as you might think," McKay told him. "Ten minutes, tops."

"Really?" McGee answered with a raised eyebrow. "It hardly feels like we're moving at all."

"It's a little thing called inertial dampeners," McKay told him facetiously. "You won't feel a thing."

"I know what you use," McGee snapped back, while beside Rodney, Ronon groaned. "I was just… making conversation."

"Right," the pilot drawled. "And -."

"Cut it out you two," Ronon interrupted. "Before I shoot you."

McKay scowled. "You know what, no," he snapped. "I'm allowed to talk, Chewie. Just because you don't understand a word we say, doesn't mean I'm not allowed to say something."

"Well, if you didn't argue every single time you opened your mouth," Ronon pointed out. "Other people have opinions too."

"It's not my fault if they're always wrong though," McKay replied as if it were the simplest fact in the world. "And wrong should always be corrected."

Ronon growled and spun in his seat, leaning forward onto his knees. Behind McGee a soft beeping started up, but neither Atlantis member seemed to realize it, so involved in their argument.

"You are the most arrogant…" Ronon fisted his hand. "I swear, McKay, one of these days you're going to realise there's smart and then there's smart."

McKay's face screwed up in confusion. "What? That doesn't even make sense. I -."

"Um, excuse me!" McGee interrupted, squaring his shoulders as both men turned to stare at him, the pilot forgetting for a moment that he should be watching where he was flying. "Is this meant to be beeping?"

McKay's jaw dropped, and he turned back around, flicking switches on the console before him. Ronon's grip tightened around his chair, and he stared at his friend. "McKay, what's going on?"

"The jumper's losing power," the scientist snapped. "That's what's going on! Now shut up and let me land before we crash. Again."

They were going down, too. At full speed. McKay pulled as hard as he could on the controls, but they didn't seem to be slowing down as the jumper plummeted down through the sky.

"McKay…" Ronon questioned, eyeing the ground growing in the window.

"I'm working on it," the man cried. "But I'm not exactly Sheppard!"

The last word was said with a long grunt, as McKay leaned back, pulling on the controls. The jumper seemed to scream with the pressure, but it slowed down as it crashed through tree tops and into the ground with startling speed.

They hit the ground and each man aboard was thrown forward. But McKay had done enough, it seemed, so the jumper had slowed enough for it not to kill them, or even knock them out. The spacecraft slid to a halt, knocking down trees before coming to rest against one of them.

And then the power completely died.

Sitting there in the dark, Ronon was the first to sit up straight, groaning as his concussion made itself known once more. He put a hand to his head, glad to find nothing bleeding, before reaching across to grab Rodney by his jacket.

"McKay!"

"I'm… here," the scientist groaned, pushing his chair away from the console. "What the hell happened?"

Behind them both, McGee stood up, nearly falling once before his knees regained strength. "We crashed," he stated the obvious. "My guess is that the virus infecting the jumper this morning, and the city, it got into this jumper as well."

"What?" McKay demanded, sitting up straight. "What virus? Oh, spinning room… jumper… whatever."

McGee leaned down on the two forward seats. "We don't know that for sure," the agent told them. "Like the virus in Ranger's body, we only found… symptoms. But whatever it is, it made the jumper crash, and it's what's been making the city malfunction."

"Oh," McKay muttered, standing up with some difficulty. "Well, that would have been nice to know before we went off in a potentially fatal space ship."

"How come you managed to not crash?" Ronon asked as he stood a lot more easily than McKay had. "While Sheppard wrote his off?"

He really was spending too much time with the colonel, McKay decided, listening to the Earth-speak. "That jumper died instantly," Rodney said instead. "This one… didn't."

"In other words, you don't know," Ronon surmised as he moved to the back. "Can we at least get out? We're only an hour or so from the lab."

"Whoa, whoa, what?" McKay demanded before McGee could. "You still want to go?"

"That's what we're here for," Ronon reminded him. "And we've only been gone, what, seven, eight minutes. Woolsey's not going to check in for another seven hours, if he even can. We have to do what we can, while we have the time!"

McKay sighed. "Fine. Whatever." He pushed off from the console and moved to the back, grabbing two vests out from where they were packed away. Then he grabbed two P90s, and handed one to a suddenly apprehensive McGee.

"I thought there was nothing threatening on this planet," the agent told them, glancing from Rodney to Ronon. "Why would I need one of those? I mean, I've got my pistol."

McKay pushed the P90 against McGee's chest before bending down to grab a small case. "One thing this galaxy has taught me, Agent McGee. Be as reckless as you need to be, but be as cautious as you possibly can while you're doing it."

Tim groaned as he took the machine gun, only putting it down to pull the TAC vest on over his clothes. Then, in a show of professionalism, he clipped the P90 on and stood, ready to go.

Ronon nodded, and pushed the control for the rear hatch. To all their relief the back opened out into the night and forest.

Ronon took the lead, blaster up, flashlight in hand, while McKay took the self-appointed but strange position of their six. And together, in a line, moving quickly, they moved on towards the Ancient lab where they hoped all their answers lay.

* * *

"Well, that's disturbing," John heard Keller mutter as he returned to the front room of the infirmary, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He had made sure everyone was right, and comfortable, but he was feeling too hyperactive to follow his own orders of relaxation. "Okay, I'll look for them in the blood samples I took earlier. I should have the results back soon."

She was talking on the radio, Ziva by her side. Out of all the friendships he could have imagined blooming between Atlantis personnel and NCIS agents, he had thought this one least likely. Or if not least, close to it. But they were both relaxed, despite only having just met, and as Keller turned away from the conversation on the radio, the Mossad officer leaned in to pick it up.

"What's disturbing?" Sheppard asked, sinking slowly into a seat behind Jennifer. She spun around to face him, and she didn't look happy.

"You mean besides the fact that you're not listening to anything I say?" she demanded. Sheppard refused to feel guilty about it. "Dr Biro found some anomalies in the blood work she did on Corporal Ranger. He had alien hormones and enzymes in his system. It doesn't take that great of a leap to realize these must be causing the rage, especially considering that the rest of Ranger's blood chemistry was relatively normal."

"Relatively normal?" Sheppard asked with a raised eyebrow. Keller shrugged.

"Well, you don't suffer from a virus – be it natural, man-made or superbug – without it screwing somehow with your body chemistry," she explained. "My job now is to determine where these hormones are being made, how to detect and stop them, and maybe even why some people are becoming infected and others aren't."

"Do you know if any of us are infected yet?" Ziva asked, the concern hidden well beneath a calm voice and placid features.

"Not yet," Keller admitted, turning back to her computer and equipment. "But now that I know what to look for, I can do a better analysis of the blood results that I get back."

"And you don't know how long it will take?" Sheppard asked. "Because I'm already sick of quarantine."

"Well, that may not actually be just because of the virus," Keller told him. "According to Woolsey, who has it on good authority from Zelenka, the city has been… malfunctioning all day."

"I had noticed," Sheppard reminded her dryly, just stopping his hand to reach up and rub the almost forgotten bruise on his cheek. "So this quarantine could actually just be a computer malfunction?"

"It is definitely possible," Keller muttered, leaning in closer to the computer. "Which would be incredible timing if it's just… hang on…"

There was a moment of silence before both Sheppard and Ziva realized Keller wasn't going to continue.

"What is it, doc?" Sheppard demanded, frustrated at being kept out of the loop so often and for so long. Why hadn't he been told of this malfunction? He was injured, not dead for crying out loud.

But Keller was apparently oblivious to whatever the colonel was feeling. She just shook her head. "It might be nothing," she told him. "But I won't find out with you two yammering away in my ear."

They both easily took the hint, getting to their feet – although it took Sheppard a moment or two – and leaving the front room, sparing Keller only a disparaging glance before giving her the peace she so obviously desired.

* * *

It ended up taking them an hour and a half to reach the Ancient lab, and by then the sun had risen to an overcast morning that threatened heavy rain.

Which, McKay had to admit, would have just put the icing on the cake.

He was tired, sore, with blistered feet, hungry. He hadn't slept in nearly two days – he thought – and he didn't care that everyone else was in the same boat. He didn't care that just in front of him, McGee was stumbling and breathing heavily. He only paid enough attention to Ronon, still in the lead, to hate him for his never-ending stores of energy. He could only concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, the P90 banging against his chest with every step. If there had been an enemy nearby, he wouldn't have care, let alone been able to do anything about it.

So when he spotted the squat, ugly, almost – and he was loathe to use the word – un-Ancienty buildings just ahead, he heaved a sigh of relief, wiping his brow and grabbing his water bottle, taking a long draw from the nearly empty canteen.

McGee was following suit, but Ronon appeared to be studying the terrain from their position overlooking the long hollow the lab lay in. It was a huge complex, even by Ancient standards, though nowhere near as big as Atlantis. Still, McKay doubted it was all a laboratory. The sections further away looked more decorated, more 'Ancienty' than the dull grey buildings nearest to them.

"What do you think?" he asked, squatting down next to Ronon. The big man shrugged.

"I think we need to get down there before I know what to think," he said cryptically, to Rodney's obvious disgust. "We need to get in there as soon as possible anyway. If Woolsey is able to send another jumper -."

"It'll probably just crash like ours," Rodney told him, interrupting. "They can't use one until they take care of whatever virus doesn't exist that Zelenka and Agent Wannabe found."

"You know, Agent 'Wannabe' is standing right behind you, Dr Snarky," McGee snapped.

"Oh, great comeback," McKay told him gleefully. "Well, shall we?" He took the lead this time, making his way down the once well-worn path towards the lab.

It took them another ten minutes to get inside the building, with the doors sticking with what McKay called old age. Another ten minutes later they found the actual labs, searching them one by one with lights, because apparently this building didn't want to welcome them with the same open arms that Atlantis had shown the first time they had stepped through the Stargate.

But it was the recognizing which lab held the information they wanted that took the longest time.

Eventually they stumbled across something they could use, or more precisely, Ronon did.

"Hey, McKay!" he called from a doorway. "Think I've found something."

The other two shared a look where they were studying a lab with shattered tubes and broken computers before turning and moving from the useless space towards Ronon's voice.

"Oh, excellent," McKay muttered as he saw the row of computers and Ancient terminals. "Yes, this could work."

He strode in and over to one of the Ancient terminals, leaning down on it and concentrating so hard he had to close his eyes. After a moment of intense silence, the terminal flickered on, and McKay grabbed the datapad from the pack on his back, plugging it somewhere behind the console.

"Okay, let's take a lookies, shall we," the scientist muttered, to himself this time. McGee and Ronon shared a look before moving over closer to Rodney.

They were only three feet away when McKay's face dropped, and the datapad slipped from his fingers to land on the floor, thankfully protected enough that it didn't smash.

But from the look on McKay's face, Ronon was beginning to think something – Rodney's hope, judging by the devastation written all over his body – had smashed, just something they couldn't see.

"What is it?" McGee demanded, leaning down to grab the datapad. Not that he could read Ancient.

McKay just shook his head. "It… it isn't exactly good news." He looked up and stared Ronon in the eyes. "We are so screwed."

* * *

Um, okay... didn't realise it ended just before the big reveal, but it won't be that long, I swear! I'll be back as soon as possible, and then we'll all find out what the hell is going on. And by we... I mean you.

Happy Easter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Well, here we are folks. The big reveal, the big baddie, the big exactly what the hell is going on with Atlantis and her personnel... be prepared!

But enjoy!

**

* * *

**

Chapter 15

Jennifer Keller really hoped she was wrong.

But it had been proven – time and time again – that a gut feeling could go a long way in this galaxy. She had been right before, and she had the sinking feeling today wasn't going to be any different. Nothing else fit.

Still, she worked fervently on the blood tests of Ranger and Lorne, the two earliest victims of this virus, hoping to catch a break. She had some idea of where to look now. If she was right, that was.

But it was just too much of a coincidence to do more than hope she was wrong. She was a doctor, and whatever McKay professed about medicine, a scientist. She didn't like coincidences.

Her back ached from leaning over, and from sheer exhaustion. It had been two hours since the most recent infected men had been taken care of, and from the little she actually heard on the radio, they were still unconscious. It had taken a few too many stunner hits to knock them out, but everyone hoped that translated into the time it would take them to wake.

Hopefully by then McKay and Ronon, and Agent McGee of course, would have returned with a cure. Because if she was right – and she was sure she was, she just wanted proof before she told Woolsey – she had no idea how she would fix it. At least, not in time.

She brought up a new report on her computer, before her elbow slipped from the table and it felt like her heart stopped.

"Oh, God," she whispered, nearly twisting her neck as she snapped around to look out into the infirmary, worry and fear curdling her stomach. "This is really not good."

She touched her radio, still looking out into the infirmary out of the corner of her eye. "Ziva, I need you in here. Just you."

* * *

Sheppard opened one eye from where he had been, er, resting his eyes on the bed, as Ziva got to her feet and walked out into the front room where Keller was still on her computer. The NCIS agent didn't say a word, barely even glanced at Sheppard, but John had seen her confusion. And a twist of worry turned his gut as he sighed and touched the container in his pocket.

As he watched Ziva sat down beside Keller, and the two began talking intensely. Or rather, Keller talked, Ziva listened and they both went stiller and stiller. And he knew. He knew Keller had figured it out.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up slowly, more from a conscious effort than any hurt in his ribs. He knew they were still broken, but he could barely feel the pain he knew he should be feeling.

Keller stopped talking as he stopped at the doorway, and Sheppard smiled sadly as Ziva's hand flinched towards the gun at the holster on her leg. "You figured it out, didn't you," he said softly.

"Figured out what?" Keller demanded in that high voice she always used when she was lying, or trying to hide something. She was as obvious at it as Rodney.

He grinned, and grabbed the bottle of pills from his pocket, chucking them to her. She caught them easily and gaped as she read the label.

"You figured out that I'm infected," he told her.

"How did you…" Keller began, before trailing off. "Colonel, these are some pretty heavy sedatives. Where did you get them from?" She shook the bottle "And how many have you taken?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I got them when no one was looking. Three hours ago. I've taken… four, I think."

"Four?" Keller gasped. "No. No way, you should be dead asleep. Or just plain dead!"

He gave a humourless laugh. "Well, what does that tell you? I could feel it, Jennifer." He closed his eyes and his fist cracked as it tightened. "I could _not_ stop being angry. When I woke up, I wanted to… I wanted to hit someone so badly because that jumper had failed for no good reason. Because my alpha site team was murdered. Just because." He opened his eyes and gestured at the bottle in his hands. "Those have kept me sane. And according to the powers that be, I've still got six, seven hours til I hit murderous."

"Not just you," Keller told him, sharing a look with Ziva. "You, McKay, and DiNozzo."

"What?" Sheppard asked, thinking about the crucial mission to the Ancient lab at the alpha site, of which Rodney was practically in charge. "How do you know that?"

"We found the virus," Keller told him, her voice small. "And I think we can safely say the Ancients didn't create it."

"Why?" John asked slowly, not liking this at all. "Where'd you find it?"

Keller looked down for a second, than up, her eyes hopeless. "It latched on to your ATA gene."

* * *

"I'm sorry?" McGee demanded. "On to your what?"

"My ATA gene," McKay snapped. "Ancient Technology Activation. It's a gene that tells cells in the body to make certain proteins and enzymes that in turn interact with the body to get Ancient technology to respond to the person who has the gene. Only, according to this research, the virus… merges with the gene, takes over, and basically starts telling cells to produce alien hormones that eventually turn the person crazy with anger instead of the usual enzymes that allow someone to use Ancient tech." He shook his head. "It was a virus meant to destroy the Ancients from the inside out."

"The Wraith," Ronon guessed, crossing his arms. "They had to be the ones behind it."

"That's what the report says. I didn't manage to read it all, but according to what I did read, several Ancients were infected with the virus. When they realized what was happening, they quarantined themselves on this planet in the hopes of finding a cure in time."

"And did they?" McGee asked, only to get a glare in response from McKay.

"I don't know. I didn't get that far," he added, snatching the datapad back from the hands of the agent. "All I know is that in a few hours I'm probably going to try to kill you both, so I should probably get as much work as I can done."

"It explains a lot of things," McGee told him, letting the rudeness pass. "Like why the city, and the jumpers have been playing up."

"It does?" Ronon asked, looking confused.

"Yes, it does," McKay answered, turning away back to the console his computer was plugged into. "Because the gene that usually enables interaction with Ancient technology isn't working properly, the Ancient technology itself is responding in kind. Only not everyone's gene is having problems, and the gene itself is still obviously fighting back. The result is the city doesn't know what to do, because it can sense people, it can sense ATA genes, and it can sense something going wrong."

"So why did the jumpers die and not just malfunction like the city?" McGee asked, not getting that bit. Apparently it was obvious to McKay though, who snorted.

"Because you can't even turn the jumpers on without the ATA gene," he explained in a condescending tone. "Now, are you going to continue asking me questions for the next ten hours until I try to murder you, or are you going to let me see if there's a cure for this damn virus?"

"Is there a cure for this thing?" Woolsey demanded over the radio. Teyla watched DiNozzo's face rise with the sudden surge of hope, but Keller's next words obviously sent it crashing.

"Not that I know of, sir," the doc answered. "I'm working on some ideas, but the quickest would take too long to implement, especially for Lorne and Reilly, and probably even for Shone and the others."

"How long do they have?" Teyla asked when Woolsey refused to. Not that she blamed him. The news was terrible, and disturbing, and she couldn't help the guilty feeling of relief that was crushed somewhere beneath the other two emotions. She wasn't sick, and she couldn't be infected. So long as they kept Shone, his men, and of course DiNozzo, under guard and subdued, she would be safe to pick up her son from Kanaan like she had planned.

If only the news had been so good for Sheppard and McKay, she would have let some of the relief show.

Keller's dejection and obvious sense of failure came through even on the radio. "Going by Dr Biro's timeline, Lorne was infected about thirty hours ago. Even though the virus isn't making these alien hormones anymore, it still seems to be stopping his immune system from working – his body isn't reacting like it normally would. It can't seem to fight this off -."

"Just bottom line it for us, Dr Keller," Woolsey interrupted. "How long do our people have?"

"Major Lorne's in the most danger. I'd give him five to ten hours before the fight takes its toll on his body," she admitted heavily. "It's still about six hours until Colonel Sheppard, Rodney and Agent DiNozzo are due to… uh…" She coughed, clearing her throat. "After that, it just depends on them. It could be as little as another five hours, it could be as much as a day or two."

"Well, we're all pretty stubborn people, doc," Sheppard added wryly. "We're not about to just lay down and let this virus kill us."

"You might not have much choice, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey reminded him. "I have to admit, this virus seems very effective at its intended purpose."

"You've got to give the Wraith some credit," Zelenka interrupted cautiously. "This virus would have been a very efficient means of wiping out the only thing stopping them from having complete control over the galaxy."

"Wraith?" DiNozzo demanded, stopping in his pacing. Even he knew enough about the Wraith to know he didn't want anything to do with them, least of all a virus. "You think this is a Wraith made virus?"

"I don't know who else would not only have the technological capabilities to do this, but also the desire," Keller told them all. "Sure, the Asgard were capable of doing something like this, but it's not their style. Besides, Teyla's living proof that they were this medically and scientifically advanced."

At the mention of her name, Teyla lifted her head, feeling a spike of worry through her stomach. "How so?"

"Well, we know they experimented on your ancestors," Keller answered. "This might even be a part of that experiment, or similar to it. Maybe a basis for it."

"Wait a minute," Sheppard interrupted. "I thought this virus was just changing our chemistry, not out DNA."

"And it is, insofar as you're not about to get any of Teyla's Wraith psychic abilities," Keller confirmed. "But this virus manipulates at least your ATA gene, which is just Ancient DNA, which then changes your body chemistry. Not only that, but according to the report, the people who were initially tested on… they went crazy and killed nearly everyone in their village. Now, we assumed it was just them going crazy from hearing the Wraith constantly. But what if it was a failure of the experiment, an experiment based on this virus?"

"This conjecture is all well and good," Agent Gibbs suddenly interrupted. "But knowing where this virus came from, and what it might have been used as in the future only gets us so far. Doc, can you create a cure?"

"Not in time," Keller repeated. "Like I said when I explained all this, we barely understand the virus. I'm going to keep working, but I doubt I'll get very far. Our best bet is the Ancient lab."

"You mean the Ancient lab only accessible by jumper that's being flown by a man doomed to go crazy in six hours, the same man who thinks he has four hours longer than he actually does, that we can't contact to warn," Gibbs surmised in a dry voice. "Is there anything else you can do, Dr Keller?"

"She said she'd try," Sheppard snapped. "It doesn't help that we're all tired from being awake for two days straight, and stressed because we're stuck in certain sections with people who are going to fall into homicidal rage any moment now."

"I understand that, Colonel," Gibbs answered back, just as snappy despite not being affected by the virus. It was just his way. "But the quarantine is back on level four. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it means all gate activation from this base is barred by the city itself."

"No, you don't," Sheppard agreed in a tight voice. "But they can still come back. McKay ensured it."

"I'm more worried about their jumper," Zelenka told them before Gibbs could answer. "I'm guessing that the manipulation of the ATA gene is what has been confusing this city. Just like it confused your jumper, Colonel Sheppard. If McKay's jumper is similarly affected, he might not be able to get there."

"If there's a cure there at all," Gibbs added quietly. It wasn't hard to hear him over the radio though.

"Well, if there isn't, it's no use anyway," Sheppard told him with a harsh tone. "We're all screwed if there isn't."

That left an uncomfortable silence. Teyla shared a look with DiNozzo, who resumed his pacing from one edge of the room to the other, obviously trying to ignore the worried looks of the marines in the room.

"Look, everyone needs to remain calm, and positive," Woolsey said after a moment. "We'll do what we can, and considering that every person on this base is either a genius or close to it, my money's on success. We just need to work, and keep everything under control. Dr Keller, good luck."

He shut off communications from his own radio, but everyone still felt like they heard the muttered 'You're going to need it' that Teyla was sure Woolsey really did whisper where he hoped no one could hear his doubt.

* * *

He he, there was so much medical bullshit in that… But someone has pointed out to me that I'm a writer – I'm allowed a bit of bullshit, lol… I think they really said something about poetic license, or something a little less crass, but meh.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Ziva didn't like waiting.

She hadn't always. Patience was a virtue one needed as a Mossad officer, and as a handler. If you didn't have it innately when you began training, it was soon drilled into you, the necessity of it a fact you were constantly reminded of.

Since joining NCIS, however, she was finding she was more and more impatient.

She thought she had good reason to be, especially now. Here she was, on a base on another planet in another galaxy, millions of light years from home, and she was in the dead centre of one of the greatest threats Atlantis had faced since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy.

They couldn't have waited a week or two? Even better, three?

It wasn't just that. She was trapped in a room with little means to defend herself, besides her own fists, and – she guessed – the three men who would normally be in uniform if one of them hadn't accidentally crashed his flying ship. And if two of them weren't going to fall into fits of homicidal rage in a few hours.

Still, she was wearing a hole in the floor, and she needed to calm herself down, needed to stay on alert but maintain energy and composure.

Which she wasn't going to do by pacing the length of the room, between the rows of beds occupied mostly by injured marines and one already irate Air Force officer. She stopped in her tracks and turned to go lean on the end of Sheppard's bed.

He looked up at her, flushed and hot from the havoc being wreaked on his body. "How are you feeling?" she asked without thinking.

"How do you think?" he snapped before he could stop himself. She guessed before he could stop himself. He bit down on his tongue as soon as the words had left him, and even managed to look apologetic. "Sorry," he told her, fiddling with his sheets. Then he gave a small growl and flopped back, wincing at the pull on his ribs. "Actually I should just say sorry in advance for anything I do within the next four, five hours."

"You're not going to do anything," Ziva told him, her voice strong and convinced. He didn't buy it.

"And you're judging this on, what? Knowing me for a few days? Reading my file back when your team arrested me?"

Ziva smirked at his smug tone. "I am judging it on the promise that Dr Keller gave Woolsey. About how she would keep both you and Captain Dawson on those sedatives you've been gosling."

He paused, looking at her as if he didn't know if she was being serious. "I think the word you're looking for is _guzzling_," he offered facetiously.

"Whatever the word, you've been taking them like there is no tomorrow. And Woolsey made her promise that if either of you became a problem, she would get me or Sergeant Holden to stun you. She would then restrain you, and, if necessary, place you both in a medically induced coma."

Sheppard paused again, that same look on his face. Ziva gave a start, not sure where she had gone wrong in the sentence.

"That seems a bit severe, don't you think?" Sheppard demanded after a moment, his face showing the obvious feeling of being overwhelmed. "I mean, a medical coma?"

"Do you think those pills are going to cut it, Colonel Sheppard?" Ziva asked, nodding at the bottle on the table next to the pilot.

The man snorted. "No. Not a chance in hell." He looked around, before lowering his voice. "I can feel it," he told her softly. "I can feel the changes, the effect this alien hormone's having. It's getting harder and…" he broke off for a moment, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth, "And harder to hold it back. Like you saw," he added with a humourless laugh.

"Dr Keller is working on it," Ziva told him, trying to make him feel better. "There is plenty of time."

"Yeah, if this was one of your normal investigations into some murder," Sheppard pointed out with some anger. "But in this case, you already know who the murderer's going to be. Me! I'm going to start trying to kill you, Keller, everyone in this room, because some alien virus is making my mutant DNA make an alien hormone – created by the worst race of creatures to ever inhabit this galaxy, I might add – that's designed to screw up my body chemistry so that I'll fall into a homicidal rage!"

Ziva didn't answer for a moment, leaning heavily on the end rail of the bed. "We won't let that happen, Sheppard," she promised quietly. "Like I said, we will not let you attack anyone. We, _I_, won't let that be on your conscience."

She made sure he understood the promise behind her words, before pushing off and resuming her pacing. Sheppard watched her walk, hopeful she could keep her promise.

For her sake, and for the sake of everyone else stuck in this infirmary, he really hoped so.

* * *

"How you doing, doc?"

Gibbs was leaning down on the console, beside the Czech scientist as he looked up, ready for the question, and resigned to the fact that it had been coming.

"I am doing what I can, Agent Gibbs," Zelenka told him. "But trying to take over these systems while they are under a protocol lockdown is not as easy as it sounds."

"That doesn't sound easy at all," Woolsey pointed out with some panic, coming over after realizing he wasn't content to just eavesdrop.

Zelenka stared at him wryly. "My point precisely."

"So why are you doing it?" the expedition commander demanded. "Actually, what are you doing?"

The scientist sighed, resigned just as much to having to explain himself as he was to the never-ending questions. "I am trying to isolate the systems that have been affected by the virus attacking the ATA gene. They have been… er, frazzled, I guess, by the changes to the very physiology of certain humans that allows them to operate. Now, the good thing is that most things in Atlantis only need to be initiated by a person with the ATA gene."

"And then anyone can use it," Woolsey continued with a nod. "That's Atlantis 101, Dr Zelenka."

"Well, hopefully we can use that to our advantage," Zelenka continued as if he hadn't heard. He was used to having to ignore Rodney's insults, Woolsey's attitude was nothing. "We know there is obviously some, er, connectivity between a person with ATA and Ancient technology. There's always some connection."

"And you're hoping to…" Gibbs asked, giving a tiny shake of his head to emphasise the demand.

"And I'm hoping to cut off that connection," Zelenka told him with a sigh. "But it will not be easy. I need to isolate the Ancient technology, the sensors that respond to the ATA gene _within_ the technology, so then I can clean the technology and restore our control of the city so we can concentrate on helping those infected."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Woolsey sat down heavily in the nearest seat. "I think you've been spending too much time with Dr McKay," he muttered. "Is that even possible?"

"I do not know yet," Zelenka told him, leaning on one elbow and taking off his glasses to rub his nose. He looked exhausted. "Therein lies the lack of ease."

"So…" Gibbs asked, trailing off, thinking the question was obvious. Apparently not so obvious as he thought, though.

"So, what?" Zelenka demanded. "I am doing what I can, but it is very difficult. Rodney would be much better suited, but I don't know the systems nearly so well as him. Give me some more time."

Gibbs backed away, checking his watch. Five hours til Sheppard, DiNozzo and McKay went off. "You've got three hours, doctor."

Zelenka's jaw dropped. "I don't know how it works in your jurisdiction, Agent Gibbs," the small Czech snapped. "But here we cannot just abide to arbitrary numbers. It will take as long as it takes."

"As long as it takes some time within the three hours, I don't care," Gibbs snapped back. "And trust me, that's being generous. We need to get control of this city before more people go off the deep end. We need to get them help, or, if necessary, confine them until we do come up with something."

"And I will do my best," Radek explained with some exasperation. "But I can only do what I can do. To expect anything else is only wishful thinking."

And the man turned away, back to his computer, replacing his glasses and sending the clear message that the conversation was over. Gibbs let it go, turning to Woolsey, who was looking a little angry himself.

"You're not ATA positive, are you?" Gibbs asked, hopeful.

Woolsey stood up straighter. "My people are the best in two galaxies," he told the other man in a cold voice. "Goading and insulting may work for your team, but mine doesn't need such encouragement. In fact, it may work just the opposite." He shook his head, and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "They'll do their job to the best of their abilities, Agent Gibbs. And trust me when I say you should be betting on success."

* * *

"This is stupid!" McKay shouted as he thumped his fist down on the Ancient console his datapad was connected to. McGee jumped, but Ronon just got to his feet and walked over to his team mate.

"What is?" the Satedan asked, his voice calm, but his stance tense. He was worried they weren't going to find a cure. And after working on the translation for nearly two hours now, McGee had to admit it wasn't looking good.

"The size of this… everything!" McKay snarled. "The size of this file, this facility, this… everything!"

Ronon refused to be baited, had done so since learning that Rodney was sick, was the only one sick. "Did you find a cure?"

"Does it look like I've found it?" he demanded, turning and addressing them both. "This complex is massive, and the Ancients had just as much time as us. The first person was infected, they realized what was going on, they quarantined themselves. They had a few hours to find a cure before they turned on each other, and killed each other!"

"So I'm guessing they didn't find a cure," McGee theorised from the rambling.

"And that's where you would be wrong. Again," McKay told him. "These were the _Ancients_. Smartest people in the entire history of the universe. Or so people claim. I've got serious doubts, cause this is just another example of how their mistakes have screwed with our lives. I mean, they couldn't put up warning signs? Even -."

"McKay!"

The scientist looked set to rip the Satedan up with words, but he bit down on his tongue and took a deep breath through his nose, visibly calming himself. "They found a way to counteract the virus," Rodney told them, his voice steady. Just. "Or that's what this says…"

"But… I sense a but there," McGee declared with a nod.

"But it says that before they could test it, they became too angry. They lost control, and ended up killing each other anyway." McKay shrugged. "So basically, there is a cure here, but who knows where. Who knows if it works. Hell, these Ancients might have been so far gone into their sickness…" He trailed off for a moment, looking away. "If they feel anything like I feel, they could have spiked the cure just out of spite of each other"

Well that didn't sound good. "If we take it back to Atlantis," McGee suggested. "We can get it tested, see it's worth anything, and make it better if it isn't."

"And how do you suggest we get there?" McKay demanded, putting his hands on his hips. "If you don't remember, my screwed up ATA gene just made our jumper crash. Even if it is salvageable, it probably won't start up again because we _all_ might as well not have the damn ATA gene at all."

"So, where is this cure?" Ronon asked. "We just need to concentrate on one thing at once. And we can't do anything without the cure."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it," McKay snapped. "I don't know where, exactly! This isn't real specific. All I know is it's in one of the labs in the east of the complex."

"Well, then that narrows it down," Ronon decided. "We just keep on looking, McKay."

The man snorted. "Sure. We'll just keep on looking. And then we'll just trundle on back to the jumper, get it online with sheer willpower before we fly on back to Atlantis, hope they've broken through the quarantine so we can get this cure back to Jennifer before she fixes us all!"

He made it sound like the most impossible task Atlantis had ever faced, but Ronon just smiled brightly. On him, the bright smile just looked scary.

"See, McKay, that's the spirit." He clapped his friend on the back. "Why don't you lead the way."

Muttering to himself under his breath, McKay yanked the cord out of the Ancient console and stomped off. The Satedan motioned to McGee to move out as well, and the NCIS agent obliged.

But not before he spotted Ronon fiddle with his gun, making sure it was set to stun for the moment when McKay turned and tried to kill them both.

* * *

The room felt tiny.

DiNozzo paced the entire length, hands fidgeting in front of him, wringing, sometimes moving to clasp behind his back. He stepped quickly, but the room was small. It was tiny, too small to pace in, and the short length was beginning to irritate the hell out of him.

He knew the others watched him. Knew they glanced his way every time he wiped the sweat from his forehead, or stopped for a cough. He could practically feel the virus inside him, doing its work. But _they_ could see it, and with every minute that passed he could sense them getting more and more ready to turn on him, to tie him down, stun him with those strange alien weapons.

And it terrified him – for now – that he was getting more and more angry that they would eventually take him down.

His pacing hit the wall… and then he decided to hit the wall.

"Dammit!" he shouted, banging both fists into the wall, before spinning back to face the others who had locked themselves in this room.

"Easy there, DiNozzo," Lieutenant Mathews ordered in a calming voice, putting his hands out, trying to placate the agent.

"Easy?" Tony demanded. "Easy! I'm about to go crazy, Mathews! I'm about to try to kill you all, and instead of doing something about it, I'm sitting in this damn… _tiny_ room, doing jack shit!"

"Well, getting angry about it is not going to help any," Mathews reasoned, his voice still annoyingly calm.

"No, it isn't," DiNozzo agreed, his voice sharp and cold. "But getting out of this stupid shoebox will!" He marched over to the door and stood before it, feeling like he was close to hyperventilating. He couldn't breath in this tiny room. He couldn't breath! "Let me out!"

"It's not happening, DiNozzo," the lieutenant told him firmly. "We're staying in this room until Doc Keller finds a cure."

"No, I am not!" Tony snarled softly, slowly. He pointed a straight finger at the marine. "Let me out. Now!"

Teyla sprang between them, her hands up in surrender. "Tony, please, calm down," she begged, moving forward slowly. "Do not let this virus control you!"

DiNozzo moved faster than he had ever moved before. Lashing out, he grabbed the Athosian woman by the arm, pulling her in and spinning her around until she was pressed firmly up against his chest. At the same time he grabbed her sidearm from the holster against her thigh, and rested the muzzle none-too-gently against the side of her head.

The entire room went still.

Teyla didn't move, and DiNozzo had to admit he was surprised about that. Ziva had told him about her fighting skills, but apparently she didn't want to take chances with someone crazy.

And that thought just made him angrier.

"Let me out," Tony whispered threateningly, his voice heavy. He couldn't get her smell out of his nose, and it made the confines of the room all that much worse.

"Don't do it, Lieutenant," Teyla warned.

DiNozzo just growled, shifting slightly so that Teyla's gun was shoved under her throat, his arm gripping her tightly at the same time. With the other, the hand that still gripped her wrist, Tony swiped in front of the door panel, sure it would work.

Mathews gaped as it did, before taking a step forward, not wanting to let a potential danger out in Atlantis.

But DiNozzo was having none of that. Swapping the arm that held Teyla once more, he shot at the ground in front of the lieutenant as he jumped back, through the door and out into the hall. Using Teyla's arm once more, he swiped the door closed. Just before it shut completely, he shoved his hostage forward, sealing her in the room with the others.

He took off the front panel of the door controls before removing the crystal from the centre and smashing it against the floor, effectively sealing the room until someone could get down here with a datapad and free them. Which wouldn't be any time soon.

Then, turning, he jogged away, not sure where he was going but just sure that he had to get away.

* * *

And so it starts...


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Man, I am screwed. As in, tired. Stupid book store... Anyway, this is the bit you've all been waiting for, it's going to be great! Lots of action and butt kicking, and all that jazz. By the way, does anyone know anything about cars, cause I think mine is brokened... lol, don't worry, just kidding.

Enjoy this next chapter!

**

* * *

**

Chapter 17

"Control room, this is Teyla."

There was a pause, and everyone in the control room stopped whatever they were doing, sure this was not going to be good news.

"Agent DiNozzo escaped. He's loose in the city somewhere."

Woolsey practically jumped for the communications. "Teyla, can you stop him? We can't have him running about!"

"We're trying," she told them. "But he's sealed the room somehow. We heard something breaking, Lieutenant Mathews believes it was the central crystal of the door controls."

"How would he even know that works?" Woolsey demanded, looking to Gibbs for an answer. The older agent shrugged.

"My team are resourceful," Gibbs told him cryptically.

Not liking the smart remark, Woolsey turned to the communications again. "Teyla, just keep on doing what you're doing, and if you get out, follow. We're still working on the quarantine. I'll let you know of any progress."

And, practically forgetting about the Athosian woman, Woolsey bounded over to where Zelenka was still typing furiously on his laptop. "Doctor, what have you got?"

The Czech looked harried enough without Woolsey's panic. "I think I am nearly there," he told them, never looking up. "I think the quarantine has actually made it easier. Or at least, the reason for the quarantine. The city seems to realize something is not right, and thus access has been much easier. Also, the lack of communication between the technology and the ATA gene seems to be helping."

"So you're close," Gibbs concluded. Zelenka finally had to glare at him.

"I am closer," the scientist emphasised. "But it still might take a while." He looked up at Woolsey. "I suggest you send as many men as are in that section after DiNozzo, because I doubt the city will be able to help us any time soon."

"There aren't any," Woolsey told him. "There must be something you can do, Dr Zelenka."

"I am doing what I can!" Radek defended with a touch of impatience. "But there is only so much -."

Suddenly the alarms sounded once more, five short, sharp bursts of the klaxons before suddenly the doors all around them began opening. Woolsey looked back with a degree of happiness to a suddenly apprehensive Zelenka while Gibbs began ordering men to search for DiNozzo.

"That wasn't me," Radek told Woolsey before he could congratulate him. "I don't know what happened."

"But you have a guess, don't you?" Woolsey deciphered from the man's tone. Zelenka nodded.

"My guess is the city's finally succumbed to the effect of the virus on the people with the Ancient gene," he told them in a heavy voice. "The quarantine is over, but only because Atlantis is now completely overcome by the virus. So, more things will begin malfunctioning, and more frequently. We might have a partial quarantine again, or the Stargate might not work, or… basically, it is like a computer having a virus. The whole system will be affected, er…"

"Frazzled?" Gibbs offered, turning back once his orders were communicated.

"Yes, if you like," Zelenka agreed. "More and more things will begin to go wrong, until the whole city shuts down. It may be lost forever, it might lose information or… The point is, unless we can cure the affected men, this city could possibly destroy us before the men have a chance."

"Can you still do what you were trying to do?" Gibbs asked, confused as to what exactly that was, but not about to show it. "Cut off communications?"

"I will try," Zelenka told him, ever the optimist. "But it does not look promising."

He went back to his typing, muttering to himself in Czech, but the two leaders ignored him, sharing a glance before Woolsey sighed.

"I know, I know, okay." And, walking away slightly, he touched the radio in his ear. "Dr Keller. I think it's time you sedate Colonel Sheppard and Captain Dawson."

* * *

McKay felt terrible.

Terribly hot. Terribly weak. Terribly sweaty.

Terribly angry.

He could feel it bubbling away inside of him, and he knew – now – that he wasn't exactly the best natured of men at the best of times. He was snappy, and prone to bitterness, and just an all round mean guy.

He was working on fixing that problem, but right now, he couldn't remember why he had begun doing that. The idea that these people would ask him – had they asked him? Surely they had – ask him to change who he was…that was just one of the many angry thoughts circulating through his head.

He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, wiping his face once more before pausing before yet another closed door, checking the Ancient writing. And the fleeting thought to just walk on by this particular room made him shiver.

"Oh, finally!" he exclaimed instead, shifting his datapad to under the other arm. "I think this might be it."

He swiped the door open but Ronon pushed past to be the first inside the room. Giving him a glare – he needed to release some anger some way – Rodney followed him in. The lights flickered sporadically in response to his mutating ATA gene, but McGee came in after him with a torch, shining the light over the room they had found.

"Is this it?" the NCIS agent asked, looking around. McKay felt like strangling both him and his simple questions.

"No, I just said 'oh, finally' cause…" He trailed off, closing his eyes as he – yet again – tried to calm himself down. "Yes, I think this is it."

"It doesn't look like much," Ronon told him, glancing around the flickering room.

And McKay had to admit, the Satedan was right. The room was half destroyed, Ancient version of computers, their shattered screens mostly hanging from one corner, if they were hanging at all. What looked like a chemistry set, much like some of the ones the Atlantis expedition had come across in their fair city, sat in the centre of the room, while at the back was a small door, about the size of a safe, just at Ronon's chest height.

McGee's light quickly illuminated it. "I wonder what's behind door number one."

Ronon strode forward without a care in the world, practically ripping the door off its hinges before McKay could even get a word out about any possible booby traps.

"It's empty."

"It's what?" Rodney demanded, marching forward as well to find the safe just as empty as his team mate had said. "Those stupid, goddamn Ancients!"

He put his hand in, thinking that maybe if he felt around in there for a moment, he would find some sort of catch, or hidden compartment. Instead, all he got for his troubles was a sharp zap the instant it was all the way in.

"Stupid, goddamn Ancients!" he shouted, throat, heart, stomach filling with a sudden rage, and the urge to just _shoot_ something was beyond –

Suddenly Ronon was standing in front of him, pushing down the P90 McKay had aimed at the empty safe where the cure should have been. For the first time in McKay's memory, the Satedan had a look of worry in his eyes, but the rest of his face was set in a mask of confidence. "Ease up there, McKay. We don't want to accidentally shoot something we need."

The scientist backed up, breathing heavily. "I… I don't know… I mean, I just… Oh, God. It hasn't even been ten hours yet, I shouldn't be…" He doubled over, putting a hand to his forehead to wipe away all the sweat that seemed to have gathered. "I think I need to sit down."

"You go do that," Ronon agreed. "Me and McGee can take a look at this empty safe."

"Oh, you and the boy wonder, eh?" McKay snapped, standing up from where he had been about to sit down on his butt. "What do you think you are, Batman and Robin? A cozy little -."

"McKay, sit down," Ronon told him, that look of worry growing. "Please."

Well, that made him stop. McKay's jaw dropped and he sat down heavily, like his legs had a mind of their own. Ronon never said please. Ever. "Yeah. I think maybe that's a -. Where the hell did he go?"

And as he stood back up, Ronon turned around to find what McKay had just realized. The NCIS agent had disappeared.

"Stupid, goddamn agents!" Rodney snapped, moving forward with Ronon to inspect the area that McGee had been standing in. They turned in a circle, as if that would make the younger man turn up like magic. "Don't they listen to anything? I said not to touch anything!"

"No you didn't," Ronon couldn't help but remind him quietly. McKay just frowned.

"Well, it should have been bloody obvious!" the scientist snapped. "I swear to God, when I find him -."

"Just give me your radio, McKay," Ronon ordered, holding his hand out, on the verge of mimicking Sheppard by clicking his fingers. Taking another deep breath – and sure the overwhelming amount of air he was drawing in would knock him out soon – McKay ripped the radio out of its pocket on his vest and tossed it over the foot-long distance between him and the taller man. That Ronon caught it easily, and gave him a small smirk before he could stop it only peeved him more.

The Satedan tapped the button. "Agent McGee, do you copy?" he called, imitating Sheppard once more. There was a moment of static but otherwise nothing, and Ronon shared a look with McKay. "Agent McGee, are you there?"

Again static, and Rodney threw his hands up in the air, frustrated and annoyed that the younger man had managed to wander off and get himself –

"Ronon, I'm here," McGee suddenly called. "But I'm not really sure where here is."

Of course he didn't, McKay knew he wouldn't. Stupid NCIS agents wandering off. "Well, what the hell did you touch to reach where you are?" he demanded.

Ronon shook his head, the only one to remember that he had McKay's radio and that McGee wouldn't have heard the question. "McKay wants to know what happened."

"I put my hand in the safe," McGee told them. "There was this weird pulling sensation, and suddenly I wasn't in that chamber anymore, I was here."

"You put your hand in it?" McKay demanded as Ronon held the radio's button down for him. "Did you not just see me get zapped? Are you completely nuts? Or just brain dead?"

"Is there a third option?" McGee asked in a perfectly neutral tone. "Because I didn't get zapped. And I got transported to what I think is a lab. Makes sense actually."

"It does, does it?" Rodney asked arrogantly. "And how exactly does it make sense?"

"Well, if a cure was hidden in this room, it stands to reason that someone infected with the very virus the cure was meant to heal couldn't get through. In fact, you were about to shoot it. I'm thinking the person close to making a cure would rather the cure inaccessible, even if the only way in was destroyed in the process. He ensured it's safety."

Ronon appeared to be studying the safe himself. Rodney tried to ignore him, and the sinking feeling he was about to be left behind as he grabbed the radio back. "So is the cure there or not? It can't be completed, otherwise they wouldn't have all died," he pointed out, sort of answering his own question.

"Maybe he did," McGee answered. "I don't see any forms of chemistry tools here, not like we've seen in other rooms. It's just a heap of vials with a similar looking liquid in them. Maybe he did find the cure, or he was close, but only lucid enough to hide it. Maybe he kept some for himself, to test it. It worked but before he could cure the others they killed him. That would suit the profile."

"And a little delusion called hope," McKay muttered. Louder, he added, "Just because they all look similar doesn't mean they are. Could be anything."

"Well, we won't know until we get it back to Atlantis," McGee told him.

Before McKay could point out – angrily – the high unlikelihood of that actually happening, what with them being on the other side of the planet to the Stargate and their only means of fast transport inaccessible because of the very virus they'd been sent here to find a cure for, Ronon snatched the radio out of Rodney's hands and stepped back.

"Sorry, McKay."

Rodney didn't even see the gun coming out of the holster before the red energy beam overloaded the sensors in his body and he collapsed, unconscious.

Sighing regretfully, Ronon stepped back over and grabbed his friend's computer. "Sorry, McKay," he repeated. "But we need to help you, and you won't help that at all."

And, with only a single look back at his team mate lying prone on the floor, Ronon put his hand into the empty safe and prepared to be transported to wherever Agent McGee was.

* * *

Sheppard couldn't believe how fast things had gone downhill.

He didn't mean for the city, though the news and events in the last few hours, and Ziva's news that DiNozzo had just escaped Teyla's custody had him struggling with outrage and worry. But no, he was more worried for himself.

He could all but feel the virus working inside of him, a disturbing – Wraith-made, no less – machine turning his body chemistry inside out as it made him go crazy with rage. He could feel the way he fluctuated between hot and cold, the sweat dripping down one temple, the aches and pains that were everywhere except where he had been injured. And the worst part about it was that Keller's magic pills weren't slowing it down anymore. Not that she knew that. They gave him enough lucidity to feel the changes in his body, to keep a tight rein on them, for now, and watch himself become a killer as if he were helpless spectator in his own body.

The fleeting thought of when he would escape with the same desperation as DiNozzo made him shiver.

No one noticed, though up until that very moment Ziva had been watching him like a hawk, her eyes as tight as they had been a few months ago when she had tried to question him about the murdered hybrids on Earth. But the very instant the thought crossed his mind the alarms went off.

He jumped half way through his shiver, looking about as the city screamed five short times at them, before a soft noise told them all the doors had opened. Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief, wiping away at his forehead.

"It's about time," he muttered, sitting up with every intention of getting out of bed.

"Whoa, ease up there, colonel," Keller ordered, nearly running over before he could even swing his feet over the side. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My job," he reminded her in a sharp voice. "I've got the safety and protection of this base to think about!"

"You being out there compromises the safety of this base," Keller informed him bluntly. "You're sick, colonel and you're injured. You're much better in this bed, under my supervision."

"I can still do my job! Those sedatives you're giving me are keeping the virus at bay," he lied.

Keller took a deep breath and then looked at him. "Colonel, you are not going to be any help out there," she told him softly. "Just let me do _my_ job and take care of -."

She got a blank look for a moment, and, judging by a similarly distracted look on Ziva's face, Sheppard realized someone was speaking over the radio. Giving a half nod at the person on the other end of the line, Keller turned back to him.

"Let me take care of you, colonel," she told him, her voice a little worried now. What had someone told her? As Sheppard tried not to eye her with suspicion, she walked away, over to the cabinet where she kept the sedatives.

John looked up at Ziva, who was watching Keller herself, though she kept glancing sideways at Dawson across the road, who was pretending at trying to sleep in his own bed. Sheppard hadn't missed the way the captain's hands tightly gripped the sheets.

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting up straighter as a nurse joined Keller at the cabinet with a tray. He also hadn't noticed the way Ziva had tensed, as if preparing for something.

"It's time for another round of sedative," Keller told him as she walked back to him, needle on the tray. The nurse approached Dawson with her own needle for his IV line.

"What happened to the tablets?" he asked as she walked around. He had refused his own IV line once he had settled down in his bed, so she had to get a lot closer. Sheppard was beginning to get the distinct impression that that had been a good decision.

"I know they aren't working anymore," Jennifer revealed, her voice tight. "You need something stronger, to keep you more lucid."

"No, I'm right, thanks," Sheppard told her, shaking his head. "I need to be as aware as I can be, especially now the quarantine's off. Who knows who else could have been infected?"

"Colonel, we'll be safe. Mr Woolsey is sending a team of marines to the infirmary," Keller shook her head. "Please, this is best for you."

"No," Sheppard told her coldly. "Hell no. It's not happening. Back off, now!"

"Sheppard," Ziva began, leaning in. John didn't like that look in her eyes.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, leaping out of bed. Across the road, Dawson's hands relaxed their stranglehold on the sheets. "I knew it! That was the order, wasn't it?"

"What?" Keller tried to deny. "John, please. Let us help you!"

Sheppard shook his head. "No. You're going to out me in one of those damn medical comas. I'm not a threat! Not yet! Don't you trust me?"

They had come around the bed now, hands up, trying to calm him. Several other nurses joined them, circling him. He began breathing heavily, the anger pumping.

"John, please," Keller tried again. "Come on, just calm down, you'll bust your ribs again."

"Stop ordering me about," he hissed. "I'm just trying to do my job! I'm not about to go crazy on you, or try to kill any of you. Just let me help!"

"This is how you can help," Ziva told him severely. "By getting out of the way. We don't need to worry about your potential state of mind while we're working on your cure."

"Bullshit!" he snapped. "What would you know anyway? You're not a member of this expedition. You don't know anything about me, or this base." He stormed forward towards her one, two, three steps. "Who gave you the authority to boss me about!"

Ziva took the opportunity he had lulled her into. She lunged, but Sheppard had expected it, and wanted it to happen. Before she could even lay a finger on him, he had slammed an arm into her gut, sending her flying into two of the nurses.

Taking the distraction, Sheppard leapt forward, grabbing Keller's outstretched arm and squeezing it until she dropped the needle. He caught it easily, and then spun her about, grabbing her hard around the throat, the point of the needle sliding a half inch into the point where her neck met shoulder.

Everyone went still, even Ziva, who was still on the ground. "Back up!" he hissed. He didn't know what they saw, but the nurses did as he ordered, and he moved towards the door.

"Colonel, please," Keller begged as he dragged her with him. The small noise, a little scared, more than a little hopeful, made him sneer, and the urge to kill her made his hands twitch to a better hold on her neck. The thought of just snapping it cleanly in half…

With a snarl he pushed her away, releasing his grip on the needle, and he turned and ran for the door, no one moving to stop him.

* * *

Okay, I promise, next chapter will be far more action-ey. I think...


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone who's reviewing! It means heaps to me, and I wish I had the time to reply to you individually! But this will have to do. So, thank you again!

Just in case you forgot, when I left you last, Ronon had just knocked McKay out, Sheppard and DiNozzo were running around with crazy pills and Atlantis was in a crap load of trouble...

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Chapter 18

The pulling sensation only lasted for a moment.

Ronon never once closed his eyes, but it felt like he had when the world around him shifted. There was no bright light, no loud noises such as he had come to expect from Ancestor technology, but one moment he was standing with his hand in the safe, McKay sprawled behind him, the next he was standing with his hand outstretched, and Agent McGee standing right in front of him.

"That was weird."

McGee huffed in amusement. "At least you had warning. One moment I was just standing there. The next, I had no idea where I was."

Missing the similarity to his own train of thought, Ronon dropped his hand and walked forward towards the agent, looking around. McGee's description had been slightly lacking, but then again, there wasn't really much to tell. One section of the wall, about eight feet high and four long, was half covered in shelves, and half those shelves were filled with small vials that had a slightly cloudy solution in them.

The rest was basic Ancestor architecture. Maroony-red walls and lights above, illuminating the Ancient terminal at the end of the small room and the distinct lack of anything else.

Having completed his study, Ronon turned back to McGee. "Do you have any idea where we are now?" he asked.

"Not so much," the agent admitted. "I would have tried accessing the computer, but I would have thought it needed the Ancient gene to turn on."

"But if your theory is right, wouldn't anyone with the gene be barred from coming in?" Ronon asked, hefting the computer and walking towards the terminal.

McGee took a moment to nod. "Yeah, that would be a kind of Catch 22."

"What?" Ronon demanded, unfamiliar with the Earth phrase. McGee shook his head.

"Never mind. Is that McKay's computer? I'm surprised he let you take it."

Ronon just chuckled. "He didn't really have much say in the matter. Do you know how to work any of this?"

McGee didn't seem to hear any of the last part. "What did you do to McKay?"

"I stunned him," the Satedan answered nonchalantly with a shrug. "Look, we can't have him running around. Who knows how long it will take us to get out of here? By the time we finish up, he could be in some serious trouble. I don't really want him either missing, or trying to kill us."

"So why didn't you take his gun?" McGee asked, not really wanting to be shot.

"Because if we're in here for longer than the few hours it will take him to revive, it will be too late to help anyone," Ronon informed him bluntly. And because he hadn't thought of it. Leaving comrades unarmed was not one of those things he did. Hoping it didn't come back to bite him in the ass, he held the computer out. "Now, can you work this or not?"

McGee snatched it from his hands. "Don't expect any miracles," he warned. "The only training in Ancient I've had is in the hour I spent with Zelenka when he was showing me the ropes."

The agent bent down to fiddle with the back of the console. "You know, McKay always tells us to not to expect miracles," Ronon said with some suspicion.

"Yeah, well, trust me, I'm not McKay. When I say I can't do something, I really can't."

"But you didn't say that," Ronon told him, crossing his arms.

"I probably should have," McGee answered. "I didn't even know this stuff existed until we got beamed into a U.S. made spaceship. Hang on, I think…"

The computer suddenly beeped in McGee's hands and the agent shuffled backwards just in time to see the screen hanging above the now lit console come on and the face of a young-seeming man appeared.

The man began to speak, but whatever he was saying, Ronon couldn't understand any of it. McGee screwed up his face as well.

"Okay…" the agent drawled slowly. "I take it that's Ancient."

"I think so," Ronon told him. "I don't know, it's hardly ever heard anymore. Obviously. Doesn't McKay have a translation program on that thing?"

"Hang on, let me take a…" McGee bent his head over the datapad, having somehow picked up McKay's annoying habit of not finished his sentences. Ronon scowled, but said nothing, guessing the other man was trying to find the very translation program the Satedan had mentioned. At least, Ronon hoped that was what he was doing.

A few beeps later, and the screen flickered. A second later the man spoke once more, only this time whatever McGee had done had done the trick.

"If you're watching this… hopefully it means you just stumbled across this facility. Hopefully it means you aren't one of my kind. Hopefully it means you – or your people, rather – haven't been infected by the very virus that's infected me."

The man sighed, looking old despite his youth. Ronon doubted the man was much older than himself, but leaner, more knowing, and a hell of a lot more tired. A scientist, he guessed, and one of the Ancients trying to find a cure.

When the man spoke again, he sounded desolate. "But the probability suggests some of your people have been infected. If this doesn't work, I doubt we'll have the opportunity to leave warning, and my people will never come here again."

Ronon and McGee shared a look as the man sighed once more. "And even if this does work, it doesn't mean I'll get it to everyone else in time. Before they… before they kill me. Everyone else is… gone. I was the last to become infected, and for that I'm… well, I have to be grateful. Because it has meant I can finish the work of those already gone, and it has meant that I have created what I hope is the cure."

"I have come up with a formula that works, at least in simulations. I will test it on myself, and, if I am successful, will attempt to cure my people quarantined on this planet. But if they do… If I don't… I have reproduced the cure and left it here, within a shield designed to retain optimum conditions for the cure for… well, for a long time. I hope it works, and not just for me. Seeing as you are here, I hope it for you as well."

The screen went blank, and Ronon shared another look with McGee.

"That was way easier than I thought it would be," the agent decided after a moment, grabbing the computer again. "The way McKay talks, I thought nothing ever went right."

Ronon chuckled as he backed away, looking at the shelves of vials. No, at the space in front of the shelves of vials. "You think this is easy?" he asked with a smirk, running his hand across the empty air: it shimmered as he hit something. "Seen a door out of here, Agent McGee?"

Spinning, McGee realized he was right. The walls, barring the shelves, were flat and bare – and completely doorless.

"How are we meant to get out of here then?" he demanded, turning back to the console and the computer. "There's got to be a way out of here."

"I'm more worried about getting to these," Ronon told him. "The shield's solid. Can you find the release command, or whatever it's called?"

"I can try," the agent said with a shrug, tapping away, looking for all the world like Zelenka working under Rodney's close scrutiny. The Satedan guessed McGee was used to working under the heavy stare of Agent Gibbs. Now there was a man who commanded respect, what with his quiet confidence – arrogance, some would call it, but like with Sheppard, it was well earned.

And apparently Gibbs' team was just as capable in their own way as Sheppard's, because a minute of silence later, the nearly invisible pressure against Ronon's hand disappeared.

"Got something we can put these in?" Ronon asked, striding forward to begin grabbing vials. McGee joined him, shaking his head.

"McKay had the case we brought from the jumper," he reminded his companion. "But I've got pockets. Hopefully we can find a way back to McKay and put them in the case then."

"And if we can't?" Ronon asked. McGee shrugged.

"That's up to you. You're in charge of this, I'm just tech support."

Ronon wasn't used to that anymore, but he understood. Grabbing a few vials he helped McGee fill his vest pockets, hoping they would have enough. But then again, if this worked, they could always come back for more.

"Is there a door hidden somewhere in that computer?" Ronon asked after a moment of silence. "Cause we deserve a bit more luck."

McGee nodded. "I think I saw something. Just give me a minute." And he returned to his datapad, tapping away hunched over the computer. Ronon waited with as much patience as he could muster.

"Look, if you can't find a way out, we can always blast our way out," he offered after a moment, touching his gun.

"And risk bringing this whole place down?" McGee demanded with a touch of snap. "No, just… I think I've got -."

A bright light filled the room, reminding Ronon of the beaming technology on the Daedalus, so bright he had to close his eyes. And when he opened them again, they were both back in the room, staring at the empty safe.

"Nice work," Ronon congratulated. "You're doing as good as McKay would."

McGee shook his head as he took a deep breath. "No, those systems were meant to be accessed and used by someone with inferior knowledge in comparison to the Ancients. And by someone without the gene, obviously. Otherwise the security precaution would mean the death of whoever made it into that room. And the Ancients just don't strike me as the murderous type."

Ronon shrugged, starting to turn around. "Well, I guess things had to start going good for us at some… Oh, no."

"What?" McGee demanded with some panic, spinning on the spot. "Oh, that is not good. I thought you said it would be hours before he work up!"

McKay was gone, though Lady Luck was laughing at them – the case for the vials was still on the floor. But the scientist was gone, and with him his P90, and his increasing homicidal rage.

"It should have been," Ronon defended. "Dammit, that was a stupid mistake."

"What are we going to do now?" McGee asked. "Make our way back to the jumper?"

"No use without a pilot," the Satedan reminded him as he grabbed the case and shoved it in McGee's direction. "And we're on the other side of the planet."

"So walking to the gate is not going to be an idea," McGee finished the thought. Ronon just shook his head.

"No, not the best one. Besides, Sheppard's number one rule. We -."

"Don't leave people behind," McGee interrupted. "I know, I remember from when you were on Earth. Are you going to be able to find him?"

"Maybe," Ronon allowed. "Doesn't matter in any case."

"I don't like the sound of that," McGee decided as the taller man grinned at him toothily. "No, I really don't like the sound of that at all."

"Probably not," the Atlantean muttered. "But it's true. If this virus stays true to form, McKay's going to try to find us. He'll find something to blame us for. He'll try to hunt us down. We'll just have to be aware of when he does it so he doesn't kill us before we can stop him."

"That is a terrible plan," McGee muttered as he closed the case, securing the dozen vials of the would-be-cure they had retrieved. "So what, we head for the jumper, hope he finds us before then?"

"That's as good an idea as any," Ronon agreed. "I should be able to pick up on him out in the forest a lot better than I would in here." He looked around. "Come on. Even if he doesn't find us on the way, the jumper will provide better protection than anywhere around here."

* * *

"This is bad, this is very, very bad."

Woolsey continued muttering to himself as two dozen marines ran up the stairs towards the control centre, both Teyla and Ziva at their head. Gibbs watched the Atlantis commander for a moment, watched the man bounce between technicians at their computers, and decided that maybe he had better handle this.

So, silently taking his leave, he met the group at the top of the stairs, wishing he could join them in their hunt for both DiNozzo and Sheppard, but if he was coordinating this, he needed to know the location and movements of everyone. And now that the quarantine had been lifted, that was only possible – however temporary it ended up being – from the control tower.

"Is it just Tony and Sheppard out there?" Ziva asked as they approached. Gibbs nodded, and then looked at his agent.

"You didn't leave the infirmary unguarded, did you?" he asked. He should have known better, especially when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, I didn't. I left four men guarding the infirmary itself and another two watching over Captain Dawson, just in case he does wake."

"Is that likely?" Teyla asked, her eyebrows lowering in confusion. "I thought you said Jennifer put him in a coma."

"We know so little about the physical side effects of this virus," Ziva said with a shake of her head. "Dr Keller believes they may be more capable of fighting drugs and sedatives. I do know the sedatives Colonel Sheppard had been taking had stopped being effective."

Teyla shrugged, and looked up at Gibbs. "That would explain why it took several stunner blasts to take down Shone and his men."

"And why it won't be easy to stop DiNozzo and Sheppard," Gibbs agreed. "But we have to do it anyway. We'll divide the city up into four sections. Ziva, you take the central tower. Teyla, you have living quarters." He looked up, searching for people he recognised. "Major Graham, you have the East Pier. Lieutenant Broden, you have the science labs. Only use live rounds in self-defence. All non-essential personnel have already been told to remain in their quarters. Each team has an LSD, so any single dot on that will be DiNozzo or Colonel Sheppard."

"For as long as they work, anyway," someone muttered darkly. Gibbs heard easily and tried not to sigh heavily. Instead he set his jaw in an expression of grim confidence.

"It's true that we don't know if anyone will become sick any time soon. But does it matter? This is Atlantis, and here, you trust each other. Otherwise you couldn't work together as well as you do." He hated these sappy speeches. "So, get your heads in the game, and forget about any possibility that the man next to you might be sick. We've got two injured men out there, and they're confused. Are you going to ignore them, leave them behind just because you're feeling on edge?"

There were a few guilty faces, but most glared at the NCIS agent in determination. Teyla was amongst them. "We will not waver, Agent Gibbs. Is that all?"

She was insulted, he realized, but there was little he could do about that. He shook his head. "No. Get going, and stay in radio contact. Don't split up. However confused DiNozzo and Colonel Sheppard may be, they're still who they are. Be careful. And bring our men back."

He turned away, and the group split into four teams of six, heading off into every direction. Gibbs nearly turned back so he could watch them, a strange feeling in his gut. He was used to strange feelings in his gut, but this one… this one was alien.

Sort of like nerves, he figured as the groups left the gate room and began their searching.

* * *

Sheppard had had enough.

There were people patrolling his corridors, people not taking orders from him. Why weren't they taking orders from him?

Because people had usurped him. Like a Trojan, they had come in, taken over. He had given them a bite, and they had taken it all. All of them had, all of them, they were brainwashed, they had to be. He had to do something, before they destroyed his city.

Sheppard knew where they were coming from. He watched from above, ready for them when they came in. He knew they would know he was there, so he had to be quick. The stunner was tight in his hands, ready. Oh so ready…

The first head came through the door, light spinning around the room, looking for him, LSD beeping quickly in his hands. And Sheppard didn't waste a moment.

He dropped from his spot, and brought his own stunner up quickly, pulling the trigger. The first marine dropped like a stone.

Blue sailed over the downed man, and Sheppard grunted as the charge hit him. But it felt like a wave of cold over his skin rather than the usual nerve-grinding bolt that he was used to. Grinning madly at that, he fired again.

And again, and again. Another stunner blast hit him, and another, but he took only a single step back as he systematically knocked the five men unconscious.

And then they were all down, and Sheppard's grin deepened. That was five less men he had to worry about as he did what he was supposed to do and stopped everyone from taking over this base. He moved forward, intent on leaving this room in case one of them had sent off a warning.

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John stopped in his tracks, cocking his head to the side as familiarity washed over him. His thumb rubbed the lines of the stunner in his hand, but he held off from firing. He couldn't shoot her. Not through a wall, in any case.

"Ziva?"

"Yes, colonel, it's Ziva. Please, you need to come with me. I… I need your help with something."

She was lying, he knew. And he couldn't help but grin once more, relishing the thought of what was about to come.

Playing his part, he stepped forward a single stride. "With what, Ziva? Is it really you? I… my head… I can't trust what I hear. You're not really there."

There was a pause, a moment of absolute silence. And then she appeared, stunner loose in her raised hands, easy confidence trying to be hidden behind a shroud of all too real nerves. Sheppard let confusion slip on as easily as her own mask. She would try to stop him. She had no choice.

And neither did he.

They both moved at the same time.

* * *

For those who were bummed I stopped the fight in the first or second chapter… here we go! I just had to even the odds first… sort of. Yes, I think that without help, Ziva would kick Sheppard's butt... but now, who knows. Should be fun but!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

They both moved at the same time.

Sheppard moved faster.

Dropping the weapon in his hand – he wanted, needed to do this differently – he ducked down as her stunner aimed at him faster than he thought he was capable of, and the blue missed his head by inches. Not that he needed to avoid it, but he grinned at the feat anyway, dashing forward to knock the Wraith weapon out of Ziva's hands.

The force was more than he intended. She went spinning, a look of surprise on her face, but like the well-trained warrior she was, she kept her feet. Or one foot at least, coming back at him with a roundhouse kick high in the air.

The booted foot knocked him down to one knee, splitting his lip, bruising his cheek. But he barely felt it, rage filling him.

"You bitch!" he snarled, standing up straight and, not holding back, slammed an uppercut into her gut.

She doubled over even as she flew backwards, a foot in the air, to land hard on her back, all air escaping her gut in a loud grunt that made him shiver.

Ziva didn't get up, and chuckling softly to himself – it wasn't his fault if no one else got the joke – he walked over, rolling his shoulders, anticipating everything he was about to do with a need to feel that shiver again.

She would be sorry.

Sheppard approached her carefully though. Ziva wasn't unconscious, she just looked stunned, lying there, her head lolling, her eyes unfocused. She appeared to struggle to watch him near her, and he grinned darkly.

Even better if she was awake.

And he leaned down, breathing heavily, reaching for her, reaching out, ready to dish out, to release all this anger building deep, deep inside of him, ready to explode.

He didn't see her second kick coming until the power behind it had sent him back to one knee, the other side of his face bleeding.

The thought that she had got the better of him – _again_ – made his fists crack as the rage boiled in his chest, making it hard to breath, making the air hot, his lungs heavy, his stomach like ice. That she was back on her feet, all traces of that _weakness_ gone, it made him scream, made him want to choke the life out of her, to watch the life die from her eyes, slowly, painfully, knowing exactly who it was that was killing her.

He screamed again with the frustration as he blocked the low kick she aimed at his chest with enough of a push to get her off balance, standing up only a second later and rushing a wide punch at that pretty little face.

She ducked easily, though the concentration on her face nearly tore through him, nearly made him miss the quick jab at his kidneys. Nearly.

He grabbed the hand with his arm and followed through with his own jab, aimed once more for the spot that had sent her to the ground only seconds ago.

Somehow she avoided it, and he snarled once more in frustration as she returned the favour of grabbing arms. Only she had a better plan, apparently, and used her inferior height to yank his head down onto the top of hers.

He saw stars, no matter that the pain seemed to be missing as blood rushed from his nose. Trying to see through the darkness he backed away, almost missing her coming after him with his blood running down her forehead. He growled at seeing it – she wasn't supposed to do that! Didn't she know what he was doing? Didn't she know he had a job to do? Didn't she know he had had enough of this!

So he just grabbed the punch she aimed at his face and stopped it dead in its tracks.

Her jaw dropped, and Sheppard took advantage of her shock at his strength to twist her arm until it was shoved savagely up her back, nearing breaking point as he wrapped his other hand around her dainty throat.

He chuckled again as she struggled against his grip, as she tried to find his bare foot with her Atlantis-issue boots, but he was too quick. He was too quick, snaring her dancing feet with his and shoving her roughly to the ground.

Ziva's head cracked against the hard ground and this time he knew she wasn't faking anything.

Sheppard leaned down to roll her over, a little disappointed to find her unconscious. But the blood leaking from a wound on her hairline nearly made up for it. He wiped her hair out the way, trying to get a better look at it.

Served her right.

Now all he had to do was finish the job.

The marines with her would do well enough. They were armed, and in any case he needed some weapons if he was going to do his job. Too bad they were unconscious, they would have followed his orders. They would have. Why were the unconscious anyway?

He paused for a moment, a fog seeping into his brain as he tried to think. He put one hand to his forehead, felt the heat piling there, the sweat. Why was he sweating? What was he doing? He felt terrible, weak, and out of…

A weapon, he needed a weapon. He needed to show them, he needed to show them all. Sheppard grabbed the sidearm from the marine's holster, the radio from his ear – who was he stealing from? – and the knife once he'd rolled the man over. And wiping his forehead one last time – so hot in here, so hot –

He stopped in his tracks, looking between the marines and Ziva, trying to figure out… Which had made the noise? Which was faking it? Who was trying to trick –

There, again! No, outside. The noise, like footsteps, coming from outside. He took a deep breath, realized someone was thwarting his plans once more. He'd show them. He would show them all!

But not now, no, not now. Too many footsteps, echoing in his head, too many, pounding away, running, running this way. Stumbling slightly, damp hands on the pistol, he turned to run, knowing exactly what he was doing. He did know, he did. He had to know…

* * *

Teyla knew what she would find a moment before she ran into the room to find the team unconscious on the floor. She had known from the moment she had lost radio contact with Ziva.

This was not good.

She rushed straight to the agent's side while two men secured the room, making sure Sheppard wasn't still here. That he had managed to take out all six of them did not bode well.

"Ziva," she called, trying not to shake the woman as one of the men checking on the marines called for a med team. She looked across, questioning the man with a glance.

"Stunned," the woman beneath Teyla answered for the marine. "Sheppard ambushed us."

Ziva groaned as she sat up, putting a hand to her bloody forehead, dizziness showing. "I can't believe he got the better of me."

"He is not himself," Teyla reminded her. "And this virus appears to give them strength, not take it away."

"So what are we going to do?" Ziva demanded, standing up with barely a hint of vertigo. Teyla didn't buy it. "Any idea where they've gone?"

"No," Teyla told her. "Sensors are not working properly. Besides, I think you should get that head looked at."

"I've had worse," Ziva responded with a shake of her head. "I'm fine. I need to find Tony before he does something he'll regret."

The Athosian didn't answer for a moment, sizing the Earth woman up before nodding. "Okay. But I think we need larger teams."

"No, we just need to be more careful," Ziva told her. "We need to treat the hunt as hostile, if not the actual finding."

Teyla wanted to argue, but she kept her peace. Besides, the woman was right. If they treated the search as if they were just searching for John – a normal John – then they were not going to get anywhere.

"Okay," Teyla agreed. "We need to find them, either of them. Did Colonel Sheppard say anything, about where he was going, or what he intended to do?"

"No. But he kept on muttering about doing his job, about protecting the city. I don't think he realized he was doing it though. He was very confused half the time, and very angry all the time."

Which did not bode well either. "Mr Woolsey, this is Teyla. I think we should get guards on the power stations."

"They're on their way, Teyla," Gibbs answered instead. "We've also got someone going to the chair room and the grounding stations."

Obviously someone had beaten her to suggesting it. It didn't matter. She just nodded and shared a look with Ziva as the med team arrived to check over the stunned marines. "Ready?" Teyla asked.

Ziva retrieved her stunner, checking it for damage before nodding.

"Ready."

* * *

"I really don't like this."

Ronon rolled his eyes as McGee – yet again – complained about their plan. Yes, he agreed, it might not have exactly been the safest idea, especially since it had started raining while they were in the Ancient complex. And since somewhere out there was an enraged McKay intent on killing them.

Ronon could feel him stalking them.

Not very well, but McGee still didn't notice. Ronon hadn't told him either. Whatever his intentions, the agent would give them both away, give away the fact that they knew Rodney was out there, waiting to attack them. And Ronon couldn't risk losing his friend on this planet.

He glanced again at the case McGee was carrying, making sure it was safe for the umpteenth time since they had left the Ancient complex an hour ago. McKay had latched onto their trail fifteen minutes into that, and they had been playing this game of cat and mouse far too long for Ronon's liking. He wanted to go off, to sneak up on his sick friend, but –

Suddenly the eyes Ronon had felt on the back of his head for the past forty-five minutes disappeared, and he couldn't help but stop dead in the middle of the invisible path he was trekking back to the crashed jumper.

"What is it?" McGee demanded breathily, holding on tighter to the case. "Is it McKay?"

"It was," the Satedan told him quietly, turning in a circle, trying to pick up on that hunted sense once more. "But I don't know where he is anymore."

McGee's eyes widened and he spun in a circle as well, though his was faster and more panicked. "Why didn't you tell me!" he snapped in a hushed voice. "Man, this is not what I signed up for."

"Well, it happened anyway," Ronon snapped back, not needing this attitude. "So get a grip. We need to keep moving. Just… keep on your toes."

He gave the agent a push start and they both kept walking, McGee's eyes darting about trying to find a hint that McKay was nearby. Ronon tried to use other senses, but he couldn't pick up on his friend. After seven years of being hunted by Wraith, he couldn't pick up on McKay.

He gave a growl before he could stop himself, ignoring the worried glance from McGee. He loosened his gun in its holster, eyeing the forest around them. Why did all these planets have to be so densely forested! Stupid need for cover.

He reached out to grab McGee by his vest, yanking the man to a stop. The world was silent around them – even the NCIS agent realized the need for quiet, not bothering with questions as he felt the pressure of what was coming.

The single shot came out of nowhere, and Ronon thanked his lucky stars – and McKay's inability to shoot in a straight line – when the bullet clipped his shoulder instead of his heart.

He didn't cry out, but he still went down, resisting the urge to clutch his bleeding shoulder and ruin any grip he might have had. McGee went down with him, hands fumbling with the unfamiliar weapon on his chest and the priceless case in his hands. He was going to try to fight back, Ronon realized.

"No!" he shouted hoarsely, pushing the weapon down as he stumbled to his feet. "Run, we don't know where it's coming from." Besides, it was McKay. They couldn't shoot at him. "We need to lure him somewhere he can't use his weapon!"

"And where would that be?" McGee demanded. But he stood anyway, helping the taller man to his feet. Ronon shook his head as they both began to run, bullets dogging their steps.

"We just need to get to the jumper," Ronon told him, pulling his blaster out and making sure it was set to stun. "We'll be able to get you a stunner. We can't shoot him, it's McKay."

"I know that," McGee snapped with frustration. "But what are we supposed to do with him? He's trying to kill us."

"We can stop him." Even one handed, he could beat McKay in a fight. "We just need to get him unconscious again."

"And then what?" McGee demanded, huffing already. "Magically fly back to Atlantis? Besides, we're only what, two-thirds of the way to the jumper? We won't make it."

"We'll make it," Ronon guaranteed. The bullets had stopped. "And we'll figure something out." Okay, so he was a little sketchy on those details, but he just knew they had to get to the jumper. "The jumper will be safe, even if we have to wait it out."

"If we can get there," McGee panted as he staggered over a branch lying in their road. "I hope you're right about this."

Ronon hoped he was too. "We've been moving faster," he reassured the probie. "We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Twenty, taking into account Ronon's injury. He couldn't help it, but he slowed them down. Still, he knew they were close. Close enough that his heart was pounding. When would McKay make his move?

The answer to that came quicker than he would have liked.

As in, the instant he spotted the sleek grey machine, he had to once again pull McGee to the side to avoid the barrage of bullets that flew their way.

"Dammit," Ronon snarled, hitting the ground with his fist, the blood that had run down to it grabbing at the dirt and leaves on the ground. "How did he beat us here?"

"Bad luck," McGee muttered. "Finding the cure was too easy, now karma hates us."

Ronon had no idea what he was talking about, so he ignored the agent, checking once more that his weapon was on stun. Then he turned to McGee, a dark pit forming in his gut.

"I'm going to try to draw McKay out, or knock him unconscious. Either way, when you can, get to the jumper and find a stunner. Two have better odds than one. But if you can't… If you think…" He felt his throat seize rebelliously. "If he starts… You need to take him out."

McGee's face went pale at the permission, but he nodded anyway, scrabbling at the P90 on his chest. "I'll do what I have to. And only when it's life or death."

Ronon nodded sharply, moving along until he could see McKay through the bushes, still firing a spray at what the scientist obviously hoped was his team mate.

And, choosing his moment as carefully as he could, Ronon stood and fired once.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Does anyone know any good articles on Egyptian Middle Kingdom fortifications in Lower Nubia? Cause damn they're hard to find! I've got seven out of ten, but these last three... Grrr to real life!

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed!

**

* * *

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Chapter 20

And, choosing his moment as carefully as he could, Ronon stood and fired once.

McKay didn't see it coming, and the beam hit him solidly on the chest. The scientist stiffened… took a step back… and screamed wordlessly, bringing the P90 up to kill a man he considered his friend under normal circumstances.

And Ronon could only flinch as the machine gun clicked on empty, could only heave sigh of relief, could only realize that he had been about to let Rodney kill him because he couldn't bring himself to reply in kind.

McKay looked at the P90 with some confusion before ripping it from the vest, chucking it to the side as hard as he could, and turning to run towards the open hatch of the jumper. Where there were more weapons. Loaded weapons.

Ronon acted without thinking. Holstering his gun, he ran for his friend, reaching him in time to yank him back from the hatch and down onto the ground, dragging McKay away, hoping to give McGee the opportunity to do as he had been ordered.

Rodney scrabbled at Ronon's hand as they both moved away from the jumper, but the Satedan ignored him until they were a safe distance. He let McKay go, stumbling back with the sudden freedom of weight, while the scientist landed heavily in the mud.

McKay hit the ground with clenched fists as he got to his knees and stood, turning around to face Ronon. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, face red with rage. "You just _left_ me at that stupid, sorry excuse for an Ancient lab, and _now_ you're attacking me?"

"Hey, you attacked me first," Ronon reminded him, trying not to look at McGee as he crept out from his hiding spot. "Or are you so blind that you missed the bleeding bullet wound _you_ out in my shoulder?"

On second thoughts, it probably wasn't the best idea to taunt the already pissed scientist. McKay scrabbled at his thigh for the sidearm that wasn't there, and when he found it missing, he screamed again, obviously needing to vent his frustration any way he could.

"A little reminder that I exist!" McKay shouted, taking a step forward, pointing for emphasis. "You stunned me! Left me on that floor! Stole my computer! You just _left_ me! I watched. You didn't even bother to look for me, you asshole!"

Ronon didn't think he had ever heard McKay use what Sheppard called a swear word. No, he remembered Rodney muttering something about having a better vocabulary than that.

"Hey, sorry," Ronon apologised, holding up his hands as out of the corner of his eye, he watched McGee sneak across to the hatch of the jumper. "Look, I really am. I shouldn't have left you."

McKay sneered and pulled a knife from somewhere. Ronon's fingers twitched towards his gun, but the smirk, the tightening of Rodney's hand around his knife stopped him.

"You're lying," McKay snapped in a quiet voice. "Telling me what I want to hear! I'm not an idiot, not like you, _Conon_! You think I forgot about Agent Wannabe? Huh!" His voice was rising, and behind him McGee paused, face paling. "What are you planning? No, you know what, I don't care. I've had enough!" he shouted, pointing with the knife this time. "I've had enough! I'm through! You should have thought about it before you betrayed me!"

And McKay spun on his feet and, with surprisingly steady aim, threw the knife in McGee's direction.

Or he would have if Ronon hadn't run forward to grab his hand before Rodney could throw it. But he knew, if that knife had been allowed to leave McKay's hand, it would have hit the NCIS agent.

"McGee, move it!" Ronon shouted as McKay spun again, ignoring the tension in his arm as he tried to get a fist into the taller man holding him back. Ronon avoided it with some difficulty, fingers slipping where blood had dribbled down from his wound. But he managed. He was used to pushing through pain.

So McKay decided to get nasty and brought his knee up as hard as he could. Which was surprisingly hard.

Ronon's mouth split in a stunned expression as pain – more pain than any man could handle – exploded in his groin, and he dropped to one knee, feeling winded without the actual loss of breath.

But he couldn't stop and staggered to his feet just in time to block the knife as it came down with the intention to split his spine.

He turned the block into a grab, and put as much pressure as he could on McKay's wrist. The scientist wasn't just stronger though, he apparently didn't feel any pain, because nothing happened until there was a sharp crack they all heard even above the rain.

The knife dropped and McKay stumbled back, shock paling his face. "You… you broke my wrist." He looked up at Ronon as he cradled the broken limb, and snarled. "You broke my wrist! You bastard, I need that wrist!"

Ronon looked at him with a growl. "You kneed me in the balls," he snapped back. "I'd say we're even!"

McKay's face reddened again, and he dropped his broken wrist, taking a step forward. "I don't like even."

And he rushed forward with surprising – Ronon really need to lose any impressions he had about McKay's current abilities – speed, tackling the taller man to the ground and lashing out with both hands, broken wrist and all.

Ronon raised his hands to fend off attack, but it was so frenzied that he could do little else. He tried to push the man away, but he kept on getting in hit after hit after hit, and Ronon felt the world blacken.

Suddenly a third figure came out of nowhere, giving McKay a taste of his own medicine and tackling him to the ground.

Ronon sat up, though it wasn't easy with the dizziness and the blood in his eyes. But he wiped away the blood in time to see Agent McGee plunge a needle into McKay's neck.

"What are you doing?" Ronon demanded, struggling to his feet. That was as far as he got, as McGee followed him, stepping back as McKay suddenly went still, eyes wide open.

And then his breathing quickened, and he started shaking, groaning, like he was in pain, or his system was being overloaded. And Ronon couldn't help but remember Sheppard jerking the same way a few months ago when they had all been infected with the Hive whatever-Carson-had-called-it.

"We need to hold him down," Ronon ordered, sliding to his knees in the mud and pushing McKay down by his shoulders.

"No," McGee disagreed. "Turn him on his side. He's having a seizure, we need to make sure he can breath."

The agent sounded worried, and well he should be when it was almost certain he had caused this. "What did you do?" Ronon demanded, still following McGee's instructions. "What did you give him?"

McGee didn't answer for a moment. "The cure," he finally answered in a small voice. "I hope. I didn't know what else to do. He was killing you, and hopefully this works."

"And if it kills him instead?" Ronon asked dangerously. The agent refused to meet his eyes, but the Satedan didn't think it was from any sudden onset of fear.

"If it isn't the cure, he would have died anyway," Timothy told him. "Whether because we had to stop him from killing one of us or because of the virus finally taking its toll. At least this way we have a – Hey, he stopped."

McGee was right. Rodney had stopped shaking, and Ronon hurriedly buried cold fingers into McKay's neck to find a pulse. He heaved a sigh of relief a second later when he found one, beating a little too fast, but beating nevertheless.

"He's okay?" McGee asked, voice a little high. "He's not dead?"

"He's alive." For now. "We just have to wait for him to wake up to make sure he's… back."

"Hope that doesn't take too long," McGee muttered. "If this is the cure… Sheppard and DiNozzo will be going as well."

"I'm trying not to think about that," Ronon replied after a moment. "There's nothing we can do about it from here. We'll just have to… sit still."

And pray that McKay woke up. And soon.

* * *

"Have you got anything yet, doctor?"

Zelenka glared at Woolsey once more as the commander demanded a solution, an explanation at the least.

"I am doing what I can," he snapped, beginning to lose his temper. "I am trying to cleanse the system, but for every step forward I take, the city takes two backwards. Until we cure everyone who has been infected, we will continue to lose this city."

That was obviously not what he wanted to hear, but Woolsey nodded sharply and resumed his pacing. Gibbs tried not to be amused by it, but he was feeling this whole situation a bit surreal, now that he had had a chance to sit back and smell the roses. How often did NCIS agents have to save the day? There had been times, true, but never like this. And apparently never so often as Atlantis seemed to struggle through them.

But it was real, however much it sounded like science fiction. He had to remember it was real, for DiNozzo's case.

"Ziva, Teyla, any sign of them?"

Woolsey stopped in his pacing as Gibbs imitated him and bugged the two women out in the field for what felt like the millionth time.

"Negative," Ziva answered immediately, as well as a touch sharply. Woolsey went back to his pacing. "Sheppard seems to have disappeared, and I haven't even caught a trace of Tony since the quarantine began. Are the sensors back up?"

Gibbs shot the technician Chuck a quick glance but the man just shook his head from his station. "No, they're still unreliable, Ziva. Are the hand held ones still holding up?"

"I'm assuming so, and…" She paused, and lowered her voice. "And there's no sign of anyone going mad like Tony and Sheppard."

"Makes sense," Woolsey muttered. At Gibbs' glance he shrugged. "Well, it does. The ATA gene isn't as common as it appears. Sheppard, McKay, DiNozzo, they might not have come into contact with another ATA for hours. Especially considering they were a little busy with what had happened."

It wasn't that much of a relief. They couldn't track the movements of everyone in this city, and even two people presented too much of a problem at the moment. And besides, the hours were ticking away.

"Speaking of McKay…" Teyla suddenly interrupted. "Is the gate back on line? Because if John and DiNozzo have succumbed, Rodney would have too, which means -."

"I know what it means, Teyla," Woolsey interrupted. "Zelenka's doing his best, but the city doesn't like anyone at the moment. The gate is still out of our control, so sending anyone else to retrieve them would be impossible."

Teyla didn't reply but Gibbs got the distinct impression that she was annoyed at the way Woolsey had interrupted her. But he couldn't deal with that at the moment. "We'll just have to keep searching and hoping. If we manage to isolate Tony and Sheppard, Zelenka thinks he can quarantine that section of the city and clean the rest."

Said scientist muttered something under his breath, and in Czech, which Gibbs couldn't understand but which didn't sound particularly nice. He ignored it. "Just let me know when you find them."

* * *

Sheppard chuckled as the conversation in his head ended, and he stood back up, moving out and away. They weren't anywhere near him, and hadn't been for some time now, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, he had a plan. He could rid Atlantis of everything that threatened her. He had done it before. That was his job, _his_ job, and no one else's.

His fists clenched around the stunner and the pistol in his grip, but he barely even noticed the pressure in his hands. He just held his aim up, ready, waiting. The moment someone attacked him, he wasn't going to wait around for them to _isolate_ him.

Sheppard's jaw cracked at that thought, and he could feel the glare on his face. He couldn't believe they were going to allow this. They had been… he wasn't sure, but it wasn't them. It couldn't be. And if it was, they would pay. It sounded like them. Maybe it was. Maybe he was the only one he could depend on.

Hearing footsteps, feeling… something intangible, he paused, cocking his had to the side. Maybe he wasn't the only one.

He started back up again, stalking the footsteps on silent toes. But the figure seemed to realize he was there anyway, and spun the moment John entered the open corridor.

"Sheppard?" DiNozzo demanded as he lowered his gun. His finger never left the trigger though. He was still suspicious. Sheppard's lip curled.

"You can trust me, DiNozzo," he half ordered. "I'm the only one."

"For now," the agent answered cryptically. His finger stayed on the trigger. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" John snapped. "I'm trying to stop someone from destroying my city."

Tony tapped his earwig. "According to the voices in my head, it's us."

"And what does that tell you?" the colonel demanded. "You can trust me. And we need to stop them."

DiNozzo paused for a moment, and then frowned in confusion. "Them?"

"Them!" Sheppard snarled. "Of course them! Them, who are trying to put me in a cell for doing my job!"

Tony's finger caressed his gun. "They said you attacked Ziva." The barely contained rage in his voice made Sheppard want to scream with frustration. But he didn't. Who knew where _they_ were.

"She attacked me!" John hissed, taking a step forward for emphasis. "She hit me! Or are you too short-sighted to see the two new Ziva-boot-print shaped bruises on my face? I only just got away from your bitch of a colleague."

DiNozzo's arm twitched, but he loosened his hold on the trigger. "Why would she attack you?" It wasn't really a question, more of a demand; he wanted to know why his friend would do that, why she would betray the both of them like that. Sheppard knew that was exactly what Tony was thinking.

"Who knows?" he said in a quivering voice. Just remembering the fight made him want to storm back there and finish the job. "Honestly, I don't care. We just have to stop her. Them. All of them."

For a moment the taller man was quiet, thinking, though his emotions raged over his face. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Rage. And then DiNozzo grinned coldly. "What's your plan?"

* * *

Man, now they're tag-teaming... can't be a good sign.

Well, guess I'd better get back to my annotated bibliography. Wish me luck... I'm going to need it, stupid non-interest in the Middle Kingdom... Grrr!


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Heya peeps!

That's all I wanted to say...

Have fun reading the chapter!

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Chapter 21

Sheppard had a plan.

It wasn't complete, not yet: the rage doing a slow boil in his stomach was distracting. But he had an idea. It was simple. Hell, he had done it so often before that this time would be a cinch.

"We need to isolate them, cut them off from each other and from Atlantis," he explained to DiNozzo as they marched confidently down the empty corridor. "We need to make them wish they had never… DiNozzo?"

The taller man had stopped a few feet back, and as Sheppard turned to find him, he spotted Tony leaning against the wall, nearly doubled over, looking pale and dizzy.

"What's the problem?" Sheppard demanded, barely attempting to conceal his contempt at the man's weakness, whatever it was. DiNozzo didn't seem to hear it as he stood up straight, but he still glared.

"Nothing," Tony snapped. "Let's just keep moving. We need to make them wish…?"

"What?" Sheppard asked, wondering what the other man was talking about. "No, no wishing. We need to make them suffer. Need to make them know that they can't turn on us like this."

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "We need to hit the power stations, preferably the one for the central tower. There's no way they'll be able to track us then."

"And then what?" DiNozzo demanded, standing up even straighter. "How exactly are we going to make them pay?"

For some reason his next words tasted foul in Sheppard's mouth. "Use your imagination, DiNozzo," he growled with a small twitch. He swallowed a few times, trying to get rid of that strange sensation in his mouth. Not rage… not… He shook his head. "They're not going to back down, so neither are we. Now, we hit the power stations. There's no way they'll be able to track us then."

DiNozzo nodded, fingering his holstered sidearm. "Sounds like sense. And after that? What's the next step?"

Sheppard felt déjà vu hit him, but he shoved it away. "One step at a time, DiNozzo. One step at a time. Come on, the nearest power station is this way."

"Shouldn't we hit the one for the central tower?" Tony asked, rubbing at his eyes. "They won't be able to track us then."

Sheppard grinned. "I knew there was a reason I liked you," he told the taller man. "That's a good idea. Come on, we need to double back for that one."

* * *

"Are you sure that is them?" Teyla asked the marine one more time. The young man nodded as he glanced at the LSD in his hands.

"As sure as I can be. No one else is travelling in groups of two, or they shouldn't be." The sergeant shook his head. "Unless this device is on the fritz, that's the colonel and Agent DiNozzo."

Teyla shared a look with Ziva, thinking the same thing. But apparently the sergeant was a mind reader as well, because he shook his head firmly. "I haven't met up with anyone from the alpha site before joining this search," he told them. Then he shrugged. "It was my day off, until the quarantine hit. I'm safe: if I am infected, it'll be another… ten hours, at least, before my ATA gene starts malfunctioning."

"Very well," Teyla nodded, reaching for her radio. "Attention, all personnel -."

"Wait," Ziva called, looking over the LSD again. "They've stopped." She shook her head, thinking fast. "Sheppard stole a radio before he ran."

"And DiNozzo had one on him during the quarantine," Teyla caught on. "They've been listening in." She thought fast and put a hand back to her radio. "All personnel, there is no sign of Colonel Sheppard or Agent DiNozzo in the labs. We're moving onto living quarters."

She looked at the LSD and spotted the two dots moving forward again, in the same direction. Ziva frowned. "What kind of secret message was that?" she asked.

Teyla shook her head. "It wasn't. Colonel Sheppard would be able to decode any secret message about the city." The marine nodded in agreement. "If we are lucky, Mr Woolsey will contact us on a private line, and we will be able to warn him. If not… well, we'll just have to follow the two of them by ourselves. We will have the advantage, and hopefully we will be able to knock them out."

"Hopefully," Ziva acknowledged with a dark look. "Because we hit Sheppard with four or five stunner blasts last time, and he's still walking."

"We will just have to be cautious," Teyla told her. "They will soon move out the range of the life sign detector soon. We need to remain on their trail."

* * *

Gibbs looked over at Woolsey as Teyla's message ended, and they both frowned.

"Teyla wasn't in the science section, was she?" the agent asked, avoiding looking over at the useless sensors screen. According to it, there was no one on Atlantis at all.

"I didn't think she was," Woolsey agreed. "I thought Major Graham had joined back up with Lieutenant Broden to do a sweep of that area." The commander shrugged. "Maybe they were on a trail… I don't know!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the sudden snap, which Woolsey just shook his head at, rubbing his temples.

"It's been a long day," Woolsey explained in a tired voice. "Teyla knows what she is doing, and we don't have the ability to send a private message at the moment. This virus is wreaking havoc on every Ancient system it can. Nor do we have the manpower to send someone to her location." Woolsey shook his head. "For the moment, she and Ziva are on their own."

Communications suddenly came on again for the second time in the last five minutes. "Mr Woolsey, this is Doctor Keller."

"Go ahead, doctor," the commander ordered, leaning down over the speaker. He just knew this was not going to be good news.

Keller didn't disappoint. "It's Reilly, sir." She sounded exhausted as well, and sad. "We just lost him."

Woolsey's head wasn't the only one to drop. "Was it from the fever? Or the wound?" He had to know. Even if it meant everyone on Atlantis, or at least, everyone with a radio, knew as well.

"A bit of both," Keller answered wearily. "The fever took its toll, and he was unable to fight back as effectively because he was busy trying to heal himself." Everyone got the sense that she shook her head. "His heart just gave out. We tried to revive him, but this…"

She didn't have to finish the sentence. This way might have been better for Reilly anyway. The evidence that he had murdered the majority of men at the alpha site was overwhelming, starting with his confession. The man would probably never have recovered, psychologically. Woolsey nodded himself.

"Understood, doctor. How is Major Lorne?"

"Struggling," she answered bluntly. "And… I don't see much hope, not seeing as McKay would be infected as well. Unless Ronon and Agent McGee manage to cure Rodney, and fly back here in the next… two hours… I don't think Major Lorne will survive either."

She sounded close to tears. Woolsey understood: he felt like crying a bit himself. "Thank you for letting us know, Jennifer," the commander said softly, before cutting off the communications. He looked up at Gibbs.

"You picked a hell of a time to visit, Agent Gibbs," he muttered with a dark chuckle. "How often have you had to be worried for the life of your agents?"

Gibbs shook his head. "More often than you'd think," he admitted. "But the day isn't over yet."

"Very true," Woolsey agreed, standing up straight. "Let's just hope the cure is on that planet."

* * *

DiNozzo peered around the corner with Sheppard before pulling back just in time to avoid being spotted by the four marines guarding the room where the naquadah generator powering the central tower was.

"Well, this makes it interesting," Sheppard growled. "Bastards. _I'm_ their CO, they're meant to follow _my_ orders. Who else did they listen to? Who else?"

Tony got the distinct impression Sheppard wasn't talking to him. He whacked the man in the arm to get his attention. "Hey! How do we get past them?"

Sheppard's hand twitched towards his Earth-made sidearm, but then he shook his head, hard enough to make his whole body twitch. What was wrong with the guy? DiNozzo tried not to snarl.

"Stunners," Sheppard answered after a moment. "More efficient, and we can't think small. We need this to work. Two shots each, all four marines will go down. And then I can make them remember who their commander is," he added in a dark mutter that DiNozzo didn't think he was supposed to hear. "Are you ready?"

DiNozzo grabbed his pistol. "I don't have a stunner."

"What?" Sheppard demanded, turning on the taller man. "Well, you can't use that!" he snapped, motioning wildly at the sidearm. "You'll bring them right to us. We need to be in and out. We need to make the _all_ pay! Dammit, I have to do everything myself!"

And, unable to wait any longer, he rounded the corner, stunner up and already firing.

But he only managed to hit one marine before the others grabbed their own stunners and began firing back. Two shots hit Sheppard before he could take out another one, and he felt himself stumble.

And then the deeper sound of a 9mm being fired joined in with the high-pitched blasts of the stunner, and the second two marines went down in a growing pool of blood.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheppard demanded, spinning on the spot to face DiNozzo as he put his weapon away. "I told you not to use it!"

"What are you, my mother?" the agent spat. "We got what we wanted. What's the problem?"

Suddenly they both heard pounding feet, getting closer. Too close to run from. Sheppard growled loudly, the frustration and anger needing to be vented somehow. It wasn't enough, and he stepped forward to slam a fist into DiNozzo's unprepared face.

"I told you it would bring them right to us!" Another fist, another slam and Tony went down to one knee. Sheppard lashed out with his foot and connected with the agent's face again. The man fell back, unconscious, blood running down from his nose and forehead. Sheppard grabbed for his own sidearm, ready, and oh so willing, needing to give the idiot on the ground a taste of his own medicine.

"Colonel, stop!"

The feet! He had forgotten about the feet. Giving a growl he looked up at all the stunners aimed at him, knowing he couldn't stand against all of them, not even with both of his weapons.

"Hey, Teyla," he snarled instead, looking at all the faces behind the stunners. "Long time no see."

"John, please," the Athosian begged. "Put the guns down."

"Or what?" Sheppard hissed. "You going to shoot me, Teyla? Betray me? Or have you already?"

"No one has betrayed you, John," she told him confidently. He snorted.

"You're trying to stop me. I know you are." He tapped the side of his head with his stunner, and grinned. "The voices in my head told me you want to isolate me, lock me up… I can't let you do that."

She shifted, glancing sideways at the men with her. John did the same, taking in Ziva beside the alien woman. Of course they were working together. "You did, didn't you?"

Teyla looked back at him, suddenly standing very still, as if the smallest movement might set him off. "Did what, John?"

He shook his head, wishing he didn't feel it. Wishing he didn't feel so betrayed. But it was too late. It was too late for them all. They wanted to betray him. They wanted to cut down his allies, like DiNozzo lying unconscious on the floor. He would show them betrayal.

He raised the pistol. "You shouldn't have done that, Teyla. Me and DiNozzo, we were just doing our jobs. You really… should have let us do our jobs."

Teyla shared a look with Ziva. "What are you talking about, John?" the Athosian asked. "You knocked out Agent DiNozzo. Because he shot your men."

John flinched, nearly falling for it and looking behind him where the two men were breathing shallowly. "Don't… You're lying. He was helping me, I wouldn't… he wouldn't… Stop lying to me!"

He brought the stunner up as well, face contorting into a snarl as Teyla and Ziva shared another look. But he couldn't do this anymore. How was he going to get away? There had to be a way. They wouldn't shoot him. They all had stunners. Maybe, if he moved fast enough…

He flinched to the right where the open corridor beckoned, but every hand aimed at him tensed. "Don't do it, colonel," Ziva pleaded, entering the conversation for the first time. She kept on glancing at the unconscious DiNozzo. Suddenly he grinned. Of course. There was always… _that_.

The pistol in his left slowly dropped until it was aimed at Tony's head.

Ziva took one step forward but stopped when he cocked the gun. "I wouldn't move if I were you, Officer David. And you know it takes more than one stunner blast to knock me out. Do you really think you can take me down before I kill him?"

"Easy, John," Teyla tried to soothe. "You don't want to shoot Tony. He is your ally, remember."

He couldn't help the snarl on his face. "No, he isn't! He betrayed me. He gave me away to you!" Realization seemed to dawn. "He was working with you all along, wasn't he? Wasn't he!" God, he wanted to pull the trigger. But if he did that he would never get away. He would never get revenge for their betrayal. "He shouldn't have done that!"

He took one step back. "You can't stop me. No one can, not in this city." He laughed, and it sounded strange even to his own ears: dark, deep, mad. No, it couldn't be his laugh. It felt like his laugh.

His aim had wavered slightly, and noticing it, Ziva took another step forward. He snarled, bringing the gun back up and took a second step away. "You'll pay for it," he promised, that urge to shoot someone, one of them, any of them… all of them, it pounded away in time with his heart. "You'll all regret doing this. You shouldn't have done this. You'll regret this."

And he turned and ran, stunner blasts dogging his steps as he retreated. But he beat them all, and, a new plan in mind, he headed for the science labs.

They would _all_ pay for this. Every single one of them.

* * *

They had taken retreat from the rain in the back of the jumper, shutting the hatch to keep out the cold as well. The lights were on, which was a good sign, but after an hour, McKay was still out.

McGee and Ronon sat on a bench each, facing each other and trying not to share a look every single minute as they waited in uncomfortable silence. Ronon still was unsure about having used the potential cure on McKay, of that Tim was sure. But the taller man had agreed it was the only course of action they could have taken.

Besides out right shooting the scientist, of course.

Still, McGee felt the pressure. If McKay died, he would feel responsible. Doubts were already plaguing his mind. Maybe they should have waited it out. Surely Atlantis was ordered enough that all infected personnel could have been quarantined. After all, it had been nearly eight hours, he thought, since they had left. Surely Tony, and Colonel Sheppard, and anyone else with the ATA gene would have been isolated.

If they had known about who was sick, who was the target. If Doctor Keller had figured it out. If…

He rubbed his forehead again and leaned back, sighing.

Ronon chuckled from where he was sitting patiently. "I know how you feel. I hate waiting."

McGee smiled slightly. "You seem to be well practiced at it, though."

The alien's head tilted slightly. "You have no idea. Waiting seems to be a constant theme on Atlantis."

"Earth's a cautious planet. For the most part." He frowned. "It's weird, actually. Everyone's really impatient, but on the whole, caution is practiced more."

"I had -."

A sudden noise from the space between them interrupted the Satedan before he could finish his sentence, and they both looked down, sliding quickly to the edge of their seats.

McKay groaned again, before moving slightly, as if he was aching all over. His face scrunched up, and he groaned again, struggling to find a spot on the floor for his hands to rest. Ronon had put a splint on McKay's wrist, but the scientist still gave a small yelp as he put pressure on it for the first time. And then his eyelids fluttered open.

And Ronon leaned down over him, caution on his face. "McKay. Are you… you?"

* * *

What do you think? Reckon McKay's cured? Reckon Sheppard's really going nuts? Reckon Atlantis is having a really, really bad day?


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** Ooo, you nearly didn't get a chapter tonight, cause I had work, and my car's brokened at the moment, so I had to take the bus home, straight to a dorm meeting (more or less, you won't get it if I say stairway meeting) before up to tea, before buying tickets to a masquerade ball, and then here to try to post before finding my internet being evil. Some John Sheppard instructions later, here we are, but it's been a hell of day, I can tell you that!

Anyways, after all that non-needing to know stuff, here's the real interesting part. We're nearly at the end... and by that I mean there's probably a week or so left of posting... I think... I can't remember how many chaps I wrote... Not that it matters right now, on with the story!

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Chapter 22

"McKay. Are you… you?"

Annoyance flooded the scientist, mixed in with copious amounts of confusion. "Of course I'm me," he snapped, struggling to sit up. His wrist was hurting like hell. "What… Where… What the hell happened?"

He was in the back of a jumper. Why was he in the back of a jumper? He looked around, spotting Ronon, and across from him, Agent McGee. More confusion rolled through his head as the two shared a look.

"What do you remember?" McGee asked, still being cautious.

McKay's head was pounding, but the agent's question set off the whole thinking thing anyway. "I don't… Anger. God, I was really angry at… something. I remember coming back to Atlantis from the alpha site… where are we? Where is everyone? What the hell happened?"

"You were sick," Ronon told him. "At least, hopefully you _were_."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He looked at Ronon, really looked at him, and for the first time spotted the bruises and blood.

_Anger. He pounded away, the need to vent the anger, to get rid of it, to get _even_. Beneath his fists Ronon struggled to push him away, but he wouldn't hit back. He just needed to get rid _ –

"Oh, God, I didn't, did I?" McKay demanded, looking again at Ronon's face. "Oh, God, I am so sorry. I don't know why… I mean, I was _so_ angry."

He looked between Ronon and McGee again. "Please, you have to tell me what happened."

Ronon sat back, a bit surprised at the tone, but doubting that the sick McKay of an hour ago would have used that voice. "You had a virus," he began. "It was made by the Wraith to take out Ancients. And being the Wraith, they made it nasty. It latched onto your ATA gene, and made you angry. We came to the lab on the alpha site hoping to find a cure. And we did."

"The lab where… Ranger? He got it. And then he died." The memories were starting to come back. Unfortunately. Had he really shot Ronon. "Hang on," he said, realization dawning. "Which one of you gave me the cure?"

There was a moment of silence before McGee put his hand up. "That was me."

McKay pinned him with a stare. "Did you know it would work before you tested it on me?"

Ronon didn't give McGee a chance to answer. "We could sit around talking about this all day, McKay, or we could get this cure back to Atlantis. You're not the only one who was infected."

Rodney sat up straighter. "Sheppard. He'd be infected too."

McGee nodded. "And Tony, remember, he has the ATA as well. And who knows who else. But this cure works. We can fix them before they do something they'll regret. But you're the only one who can fly this ship."

McKay nodded and slowly got to his feet, wincing and groaning all the way. And then he spotted the quick first aid on his wrist, and his face paled.

"Which one of you broke my wrist?"

* * *

Woolsey was the first to spot Teyla and Ziva as they ran up the stairs. He stood up straight and motioned at Gibbs, who nodded. Together they walked over to meet the two women.

"What happened?" Gibbs demanded. Ziva shook her head.

"We caught up with both Tony and Sheppard," she explained. "They had taken out the four guards on the naquadah generator powering this tower. Sheppard had stunned two, but I think it was Tony who shot the others. And I think that made Sheppard mad."

"He had knocked Agent DiNozzo unconscious when we confronted him," Teyla continued. "And he looked ready to shoot him. He was… very sick. He looks terrible, and he was very confused. He's so pale under all his bruises and cuts, and I think he's forgotten all about any pain. He punches with the fingers he dislocated like he can't hear them cracking. He keeps on forgetting what he had done, and he was repeating himself. He was also…"

"Unbelievably angry," Ziva picked up. "He was shaking, though I don't think he realized it. He kept on snarling, and growling. And he threatened to kill Tony when he realized we had backed him into a corner."

"We had no choice but to let him go," Teyla apologised. "If we had tried to stun him any earlier, he would have shot Agent DiNozzo."

"How is DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"According to Doctor Keller, alive. The virus is wreaking havoc, but… Well, he's alive. She put him into a coma like she had with Captain Dawson," Ziva explained. She shook her head. "The two marines he shot are going to be fine as well, though I think Doctor Keller is about to run out of even fumes to run on."

Woolsey couldn't help but chuckle. "I think we're all approaching that point. What about Colonel Sheppard?"

"We gave chase, but he got away," Teyla told the two leaders. She shared a look with Ziva: they both agreed. "I am afraid of what he will do now."

"What do you mean?" Woolsey asked, not liking the looks on the faces of the two women.

"Just what he kept on saying," Teyla explained. "He feels betrayed. Not just by us. By everyone. We need to find him as quickly as we can. Or he may do some serious damage to us all."

Woolsey shared a look with Gibbs. "Doctor Zelenka is working on gaining control of the system, but until he does, there isn't much we can do," he told the two of them.

Ziva shook her head. "That will not be good enough. We need to track him down. He told us himself, he cannot be stopped in this city. We need to do something about it now."

"Where would he go to do the most damage?" Gibbs asked, thinking fast. Both Woolsey and Teyla mulled it over as quickly as they could.

"The science labs," Zelenka suddenly interrupted, coming over. "Sorry, to intrude." He looked worried. "But that is where he could do the most damage. And… that is where someone is trying to hack into the system."

"What?" Woolsey demanded, turning to the small Czech. "How is he even lucid enough to do that?"

"Oh, he's lucid," Ziva told him. "Surprisingly lucid. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly how to get away from us, and what buttons to push."

"We need to go after him," Gibbs decided. "Come on, Ziva, Teyla, you're with me."

"Whoa, wait," Woolsey demanded, stopping the three of them. "Communications are down, remember?"

"Sheppard has a radio anyway," Ziva told him. "We can't order more marines over that system because he'll just run somewhere else when he realizes someone figured out where he is."

"But there's only three of you," Woolsey reminded them, as if they needed the reminder. "That's not enough."

"It might be just the right number," Gibbs countered. "We've tried en masse assaults, and they haven't worked. If we come across any marines, we'll take them on board. But for now, a three man team might be best." He looked at the two women and nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Sheppard wiped his forehead and wondered why he was feeling so hot and sweaty. Then he shook it off, getting back to the computer before him, and the Ancient screen above it. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

He needed to make them all realize.

His fists cracked just thinking about it, but he ignored that. Ignored everything but the technological lingo running down the screen before him. Most of it didn't make much sense to him, but he knew enough. Enough to know what to look for.

But first he had to get into the system, and that was proving difficult. He knew the city was in a mess, knew something was wrong with her. She wasn't responding right, wasn't listening to him, or to anyone. And maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage. Maybe, just maybe he could coax her into doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

It was a good thing he knew Rodney's code. "Couldn't have done this without you, McKay," he told himself, wondering where the man was anyway. He could really have used the guy's help. This wasn't easy, and… His head was acting all –

Ah, there! Someone else, though they were fighting the system. He wasn't trying to fight it. The city was acting like it had a virus itself, so if anything, he went along with Atlantis. The city was malfunctioning, acting up, not doing what she was supposed to be doing. All protocols were out the window, going, going, gone, and that was exactly what he needed to beat whoever the idiot was who was trying to fight the inevitable failure of all of Atlantis' systems.

He entered his own code, and Rodney's code, and suddenly he was in control.

First things first. Sealing off his section of the city. He tapped in the command, and once more that day five sharp klaxons called throughout Atlantis, pre-empting the closure of every single door in every single corridor. Communications were already down, so he didn't have to worry about that, but he did cut off every other terminal in the city.

And then, with a triumphant grin, he set into place the procedure for his plan. His grin widened as he sat down to wait for the computers to do their thing, to draw out the moment to more than a single second of impatient ecstasy.

All he had to do was wait, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

* * *

Teyla ran forward the moment she heard the first alarm, but she knew she wasn't going to be fast enough. Besides, she couldn't afford to get cut off from Agent Gibbs and Ziva, and they had to look at one another before they decided to follow.

The door slammed shut in her face and unable to contain her frustration, she gave it a hard slap.

"Quarantine," Gibbs recognised as he came to a halt behind her. "The city's shutting down. Again."

There was a dry touch to his voice that Teyla decided to ignore. She just nodded. "Yes, quarantine." She moved to the side, and grabbed her knife to pry the panel off. She hated doing this: Rodney was always complaining about having to repair the door fixtures. "But it will only slow us down, not stop us completely."

And before either of them could ask what she was talking about she grabbed her sidearm and blew the crystals out with a single shot.

There was a small sound of release and as the two agents stood back up straight – looking at her as if she were crazy – Teyla moved back to the door and began to heave it open.

Realizing Gibbs and Ziva had stopped, she paused. "Uh, a little help here," she suggested. Gibbs eyed her carefully but grabbed the other side of the door. With his help they managed to shove the door ajar, slowly, while Ziva aimed through the gap in case Sheppard – or anyone else – had decided to meet them in the next corridor.

No one had, and they slipped through, the door remaining slightly open and leaving their rear unprotected. But there was little they could do about that, Teyla surmised.

"We should head to the armoury before going to find John," she told them, checking her clip. "You need a stunner, Agent Gibbs, and I need a few more rounds if I need to open every door between here and the science labs."

* * *

"Oh no."

Woolsey's head – along with everyone else in the control room – snapped up as Zelenka muttered those precursory words. But before anyone could ask what was about to happen, the city screamed five times and the doors once again slammed shut, sealing them all inside.

Woolsey's head struggled not to drop back down. "Let me guess. Sheppard."

"I assume so," Zelenka admitted, leaning back and rubbing his whole face beneath his glasses. "This is not good."

"What did he do?" Woolsey demanded, going over to his scientist.

"He's locked me out of the system," Zelenka told him, defeat heavy in his voice. "Now the only way I – or anyone – can access the city systems is via the computer that Colonel Sheppard is using."

"What?" Woolsey demanded, leaning over the Czech's shoulder. "Sheppard doesn't know how to do that."

"Actually, he does. Or he knows the theory. Usually he couldn't because the city would not allow it. But he's… encouraged it's malfunctioning. And because it is confused, it allowed him to."

"What's he done?" the commander asked, not really wanting to know but knowing he had to.

"I don't know," Zelenka admitted, running a hand through his hair. "He initiated the quarantine, locked me out of the computer, and now the city is preparing to do something, but I -."

For the second time in five minutes the alarms went off, but this time Woolsey's heart jumped with sudden hope. Everyone knew what that alarm meant.

"Someone's dialling in," Chuck told everyone needlessly, even as Woolsey brushed past him to all but run for the balcony.

_Please, please, please…_ "Who is it?" he demanded as the gate activated, the vortex diminished by the shield.

There was a moment of intense silence as everyone's pulse raced, before Chuck let out a short burst of relieved laughter.

"It's Dr McKay's IDC!"

There was a small cheer, and Woolsey ran back to the console and turned on communications himself for the first time, as Chuck lowered the shield. Ronon's voice immediately came over the speakers. "You wanna speed it up, McKay?"

"You wanna drive with a broken wrist, Ronon?" McKay demanded back, snap in his voice. But normal, natural McKay snap. Woolsey couldn't even care that apparently his head scientist had been in a fight.

"Ronon, Dr McKay, glad you could make it," he interrupted before Ronon could make some kind of witty comeback. "I take it the mission was a success?"

"Hey, when did I… Atlantis, good to hear you," McKay began, relief in his own voice. "And if you're asking if I'm infected any longer, a, your twenty-four hour theory thing sucked, and b, yeah, we think so."

He sounded relieved beyond comprehension about it as well. Woolsey guessed a broken wrist wasn't the only thing Rodney had to contend with at the moment. But for now they still had a job to do.

"We can discuss it later, Doctor," the commander ordered. "For now, your job isn't over. Park the jumper in the gate room and get your ass up to the control room."

The jumper suddenly appeared in the gate room itself, and McKay, Ronon and Agent McGee peered at them all, worried looking. "Did you just swear, Woolsey?" McKay demanded.

"Yes, I did," the commander answered dryly. "Now, doctor, if you wouldn't mind, we need to know what Sheppard did to this city."

The jumper switched off and McKay hurried from the pilot's seat to the rear hatch as the three of them hustled to get out and help.

"What is it?" Rodney asked, for once not complaining about anything, let alone his broken wrist, as he looked over Radek's shoulder. "Wait, Sheppard can't do _that_!"

"Apparently he can," Woolsey told him, leaning back. "Can you crack it?"

"Well, if I can't, we're all dead," McKay told him, paling slightly. "God, I thought that planet was bad enough, Radek you need to pull on every lesson I've ever given you because we don't have much time."

"Much time before what?" Ronon demanded as he and McGee joined them. Zelenka shrugged as he shifted in his seat.

"Wait, you didn't figure it out?" McKay demanded, some pitch returning to his voice. That was usually a good sign. "Radek, you didn't… Man, we are so dead."

And he typed in a few keys, albeit with a pained look on his already exhausted face. Something beeped and Zelenka's jaw dropped. Woolsey struggled not to groan.

"Dr McKay, what did Colonel Sheppard do?"

McKay shook his head as he paused, looking up. "He set the city to prepare for submersion." He glanced at his watch as everyone shared a worried, panicked look. "If we can't break this in half an hour, we'll all going to drown."

* * *

Dum dum da! See you tomorrow night!


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Wow, this story really is nearly finished... got tonight, and then tomorrow... I'll be, uh skipping Friday and Saturday thanks to work and the gran-rental's 70th bday (the old broad she is) but I'll be back Sunday, to post, and then Monday... Monday should be the last chapter... Wow, I feel kind of sad... this has been an epic undertaking... Man, I'm going to miss it!

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Chapter 23

"This is so typical, I go away for five minutes, and the whole city falls apart. There, Radek, come -!" He dropped his head and took a deep breath. "Five minutes!"

Ronon gave McKay a scathing look that he thought the scientist missed. "We were gone for nearly ten hours, McKay," he pointed out with some annoyance from where one of the technicians was putting a temporary patch on the bullet wound in his shoulder. The one McKay himself had made. He was never going to get that image out of his head; his imagination really was far too active, his memories too clear. And getting clearer.

But Ronon had apparently forgotten all about it, so Rodney was attempting to act just as normal. "Haven't you taken that cure to Jennifer yet?"

"Bit hard when you haven't fixed the quarantine," Ronon reminded him. "So, any closer?"

"We're working on it!"

"You've been working on it for twenty minutes," Woolsey interrupted, bringing some seriousness back to the situation. As if Rodney needed any reminders of how serious the situation was. He did not fancy drowning.

McKay looked up at the commander with a scowl. "Thank you, we really needed to be reminded that we are on a deadline. Look, this'll go a lot faster if you all stop talking to me. I need to spend the last ten minutes of my life trying to get more life."

Having heard a similar sentiment before, Ronon just grinned and turned away, knowing when he needed to leave the hyperactive scientist alone and when to annoy him. It was a necessary art, and thankfully Woolsey took his cue. Zelenka gritted his teeth as his fingers tapped away faster than they ever had before, the pressure on his shoulders a lot heavier than just McKay's good hand gripping it tight.

McKay pointed at the screen, and Zelenka nodded, hunching over the keyboard. "That's it, Radek," McKay actually encouraged. "We're getting closer."

Woolsey took that to be a good sign, and he leaned down over the console in front of them. "Can we evacuate people yet?"

"No," Rodney drawled in a tight voice. "It will all come at once. Look, ask the Genii if you've failed to notice just how nasty Sheppard can get when he's threatened? And now there's some Wraith virus making it all worse!"

"I get the point, McKay," Woolsey told him stiffly, leaning back. McKay shook his head.

"No, I really doubt that you do. Because if Teyla, Gibbs and Ziva don't reach Sheppard in the next seven minutes, we'll probably all die."

* * *

This was taking too long.

Sheppard paced up and down the small lab he had locked himself in, throwing glaring threats at the Ancient console as it ran through the procedure to well and truly destroy the city. And nada. It didn't pay any attention to him, didn't move any faster, didn't jump in fright.

This was taking too long.

He had almost shot out the screen, his impatience was that bad. But he hadn't been sure what that would do to the actual computer. And he was managing to hold onto one thought as the rest of his mind reeled with speed and a short attention span.

He thought it was the sweet need, urge, obsession with killing everyone in this city that made the thought stick in the fore of his head as the other thoughts raced by with the speed of a jumper.

He spun on the spot and walked back the way he had just come, staring hungrily at the screen as the protocols scrolled down, kicking into gear, getting into place. His fingers twitched by his gun at its slow speed, and he growled, _needing_ it to go faster, needing to do this, needing to get revenge, to get payback, to spill some of this hatred and rage, most of all the rage that was tearing through him, he needed to purge his body of it, goddammit, why was this taking so long!

Needing to vent, needing a release, he grabbed the nearest stool and smashed it into the wall, just avoiding destroying his plan and destroying the computer with the steel chair.

The stool bounced off the wall, and Sheppard screamed, because it wasn't helping. Nothing was helping, and dammit, he was so angry! He heaved, teeth gritted, fists clenched, before turning and slamming them down on the bench top, shaking the objects on top.

Taking deep breaths, he eyed those objects: a pen, a coffee mug, a plant, picture frames… good ammunition. He wasn't sure who's it was, being unsure who's lab he was in, but hell if he cared if it was his own crap at the moment, because throwing things was a great way to release some of this –

The computer beeped, and he laughed, moving across with startling speed that left him reeling for a moment, the dizziness getting to him. But he didn't care, that beep had to be a good sign, it _had_ to be, it had been so long already, it had to be…

He closed his eyes, trying to still his mind, trying to keep calm inside his head even if his whole body twitched with the need to just… do something, anything, to get rid of this anger. And punching this button was sure to do that.

Sheppard opened his eyes and looked, had to focus to settle his eyes on the screen. It said lots of things, most of which didn't understand. But he recognised the command, he had to put in the two –

A gun shot from outside interrupted his train of thought, his one coherent train of thought in the last five minutes and Sheppard spun around, face contorting with rage. Someone was trying to get in.

"No," Sheppard snapped, looking around. "No. No. NO!"

He spun back around, _needing_ to get this done before they – whoever the hell _they_ were – got into the room and tried to stop him. He wasn't going to stop, wasn't going to fail. He was going to kill everyone, give them a slow, hopefully painful death as their lungs filled with water and they tried to breathe through the wet in their mouths, in their throats, in those pretty little sacks of what used to be air in their chests.

He could feel himself giggling with the imagery as he struggled to remain lucid enough to enter the second code, his own, he had already entered McKay's, he had to have, because he didn't think he'd be able to remember it a second time. Now, his own code, what was it, dammit, what the hell was –

A stunner blast hit him in the back and he arched over, teeth cracking against each other, again and again as a second, third, fourth blast hit him.

"No," he muttered through the pain of his entire nervous system kicking into overdrive, being overwhelmed. "No, no, NO!"

Sheppard screamed it out and stood up straight from where he had fallen to his knees. He was still near the table, the bench top with all that lovely ammunition. And he reached for it as a fifth, sixth blast hit him, trying to send him down. He could feel it working…

He grabbed the picture frame and summoned all that rage to get him back to his feet and throwing the rectangular keepsake with all his strength.

Teyla just managed to duck, and the frame shattered against the wall.

But Sheppard hadn't finished yet, not bothering to go for his weapons as he grabbed the mug this time, pulling it in a wide loop around his body, low enough that no one was going to be able to duck it.

Gibbs didn't, either, taking the mug in the gut hard enough to make him double over, winded.

Snarling, Sheppard jumped forward, not giving any of them enough time to recover. Ziva reached him first, but this time he didn't even give her a chance; this was no time to prove himself, didn't want that in any case. No, now, right now, he just needed to release some of the intense anger building and building inside of him, ready to burst.

So he just shoved her aside like she was a rag doll, with enough strength to send her flying into the nearest table and down onto the floor, stunned or unconscious, he didn't care.

Because Teyla was coming at him, pulling the trigger on her stunner again.

Sheppard fell to one knee, panic mixing with the anger to make a volatile mix. No, he was so close, too close, dammit, he was not going to fail!

Teyla moved in closer, instinctively trusting her team mate enough to do so, and Sheppard made her pay for it. She came in too close, and he stood up, slamming a fist into chin. She was pushed off the ground a few inches, and came crashing back down on the stool Sheppard had tried to mangle before.

She didn't get back up either, but if anything, the sight of it all, the heavy hitting, the winning, it was just making him angrier, and angrier, his blood pumping faster, his heart beating faster, his thoughts flying faster.

He screamed, trying to get rid of it, but that just made him angrier as well.

He spun on the spot, needing to get back to his computer, sure that would do it, sure drowning all these people who had betrayed him, sure that would help the rage dwindle. It was beyond time in any case.

Only he had forgotten about Gibbs, and as Sheppard turned for his final play, the man stunned him once more in the side.

Sheppard stopped, quivering, and turned slowly. Gibbs seemed to realize the stunner wasn't working, giving it a look that clearly told the weapon it was useless, before noticing John glaring at him. He kept the stunner up.

"How you doing, colonel?" Gibbs asked, sounding almost as if he didn't know what to say. Then he glanced at the computer. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business!" Sheppard snapped, stepping in front of the computer. "You aren't going to ruin it for me!"

His hand twitched – again – by his remembered sidearm. Gibbs noticed, twitching slightly himself, the urge to go for his own – effective – weapon an instinctive voice in his ear.

"Don't do it, Sheppard," Gibbs told him, glancing between the colonel's eyes and his flexing hand. "Don't."

"Or what?" Sheppard asked in a hiss. "You aren't going to reach yours in time, Gibbs. I'll shoot you down, and you know what? It'll probably make me feel better."

"Not feeling well, Sheppard?" Gibbs asked, trying to distract him. It worked.

"It won't go away!" John cried between gritted teeth. "No matter what I do, who I hit, what I throw, what I shout, or how loud, it won't stop! I just want it to go away, and this… well, this will literally kill two birds with one stone. Well not literally, I guess. The people of this city aren't a bird, and I doubt the anger has wings…" He trailed off, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, clearly wondering what he was doing.

"You know, I bet Doc Keller could make the anger go away," Gibbs drawled quietly, almost seductively.

But Sheppard's hand snapped back to his side, back to just an inch away from his gun. "She already tried," he sneered. "But I'm not going into one of those damn comas. I won't!" His hand crept closer to his gun.

Gibbs dropped the aim of the stunner. "Just… talk to me, Colonel," the agent asked. Pleaded. "Come on, it doesn't have to go down like this."

Sheppard laughed, but it was a deep laugh, hoarse, husky. It sounded sick and once more Sheppard fleetingly found himself wondering if that was really his laugh. But he struggled to concentrate on Gibbs instead, and just let the laugh come.

"How else did you think it was going to go down, Agent Gibbs?"

And he reached for his gun.

* * *

"How long to go?" Ronon demanded as he neared the console, actually daring to speak in the tense atmosphere of the control tower. McKay didn't even bother to check his watch. He just looked up and shook his head with that defeat written all over his face.

"We ran out of time a minute ago," Woolsey clarified, the opposite of McKay and actually daring to hope. "Maybe Teyla, Agent Gibbs and Officer David reached him in time."

"And maybe fairies really exist," McKay snapped as he looked back at the screen. "More likely Sheppard is just taking his sweet time about it. Or he's… I don't know. It takes a while to kick in. Maybe we'll start sinking any minute now."

"We're not giving up," Zelenka muttered tightly as he continued to type faster and faster.

"Did I say anything about giving up?" McKay demanded. "No, keep going, keep going Radek, we're almost there."

If possible Zelenka began to type even faster, his fingers almost a blur on the keyboard. Everyone held their breath, waiting, waiting for one possibility, hoping for the other.

The minutes seemed to stretch out, and Woolsey kept on checking the time, watching the seconds tick by agonisingly slowly.

"Come on, come – yes, yes… AHA!" McKay suddenly shouted, jumping up on the spot as a huge grin split his face. "We did it. We did it!"

The computer in front of Radek beeped suddenly and a second later the doors around the control tower opened again, giving them blissful freedom. A cry of relief went up around the consoles, and Woolsey leaned against the bench in front of him as he gave a small laugh.

"Do we have communications back up?" he asked from where his head was resting against his forearms.

"No," Zelenka told him. "We have what we had just before Colonel Sheppard took over."

"But at least we won't drown now," Woolsey added to the answer that had been for him in the first place. "Ronon, get that cure down to – Where'd he go?"

The big Satedan had disappeared, but McKay had a fair idea of where he was going. McGee answered before the scientist could though.

"He took a vial of the cure and a syringe," he told them, coming over, having remained out of the way while Zelenka and McKay did their thing. He looked relieved though. Not that he was the only one.

"He's gone to find Sheppard," McKay translated.

"But we don't even know it works properly," Woolsey argued uselessly. The man seemed to realize it, and shook his head. "Doctor McKay, you should head to the infirmary, get Dr Keller to check you over. Agent McGee, why don't you go with him? I don't think we'll miss either of you much for the moment."

* * *

Two shots filled the small lab, but Sheppard barely even felt the bullet that hit his hip as he watched with mixed feelings as Gibbs spun around from the force of the impact of the bullet hitting his shoulder.

The triumph was short lived however, as the computer behind him beeped.

"No!" Sheppard cried as he spun around, running the two feet back to the console. He tried to type in his code with shaking and somehow sticky fingers, but it was too late. Somehow, someone had beaten him.

"NO!" John screamed, hitting the computer with his fists. Feeling the cold metal in his hand, he stepped back and emptied the clip into the workstation before him.

It didn't make him feel any better. None of it did. If anything…

He screamed wordlessly, screamed his anger to the heavens and got nothing. He tried to empty his clip again, forgot that he had already done that, and chucked the empty gun at the screen instead.

Then he turned on his heels, missed the pain in his hip, or the way he limped, and took off at a jog down the hall, knowing exactly where he was going, and what the plan was.

There was more than one way to destroy this place, if nowhere near as fun. But he would be damned before he let someone beat him at this game. Before he let someone stop him from venting.

* * *

Do you know how fun this chapter was to write? Really, really fun!


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** Heya folks, what's up? Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, I wish I could get back to you properly, but uni is kicking my butt at the moment. Anyways, just a reminder there's no chapter of this story tomorrow night... Or the night after. Sorry...

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Chapter 24

Gibbs watched Sheppard run out of the lab and turned over, groaning, holding his bleeding shoulder. But he couldn't just lay there. For one, who knew if Sheppard would return to finish the job. And for two, he still wasn't alone.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder reminded him of that little fact, and he looked around to find a concerned and severely dazed Ziva looking down at him.

Upon seeing her boss all right, some of that concern dissipated. "Teyla's still out cold," the Israeli woman said without a pause. "I think she's pretty badly wounded."

Gibbs nodded and sat up, trying not to wince too much. "Sheppard threw her pretty far. You need to stay here with her until help comes."

"And how is help going to come?" Ziva demanded. "Communications are still down. And what do you mean, 'I' need to?"

Gibbs stood up, glad the bullet wound in his shoulder wasn't too bad. He wasn't bleeding too heavily, and he wasn't feeling dizzy yet.

"Quarantine's broken," Gibbs told his officer. "Sheppard could be going anywhere, I need to follow him while I can. And someone needs to stay here with Teyla."

"But I wasn't the one shot," Ziva reminded him forcibly. "I should go after him -."

"No," Gibbs cut her off before she could go on. "That's not your job. I'm ordering you to stay here. Just do it."

And, not allowing for any more arguments, he checked his ammo and ran out of the lab at a disjointed pace.

As it turned out, following Sheppard's tracks was easy, what with the colonel's own bullet wound. Gibbs just followed the tracks on the floor, the blood spatters, trying to speed up as he noticed the distinct patterns to the drops that showed exactly how fast Sheppard was moving.

And as he followed them, he couldn't help but become concerned. Because Sheppard was losing too much blood. And yet he was still moving. What was in this virus? By all accounts, Sheppard should have been down. They had stunned him God knew how many times, and he was still up and about and –

A motion caught the edge of his sight as he passed a corner, and Gibbs spun, gun already up, taking on the danger before he even knew what it was.

Thankfully Ronon had recognised him before shooting though, otherwise Gibbs was sure he would have been out for the count.

Gibbs relaxed when Ronon did, though he was a bit surprised to see him. "Ronon. When did you get back?"

"About half an hour ago," the taller man replied succinctly. "About the time Sheppard tried to drown us all." He glanced at the trail. "Let me guess, Sheppard? Did you shoot him?"

Gibbs had a million questions, but he just nodded instead. "He shot me as well, and stunners weren't doing a damn thing," he added, remembering how protective the alien was of his boss. And how… volatile he was. "I don't know what he's up to, but he's pissed."

"Better catch up with him then."

And without a word, Ronon took the lead, peculiar gun up and pointed forward as they snuck along. Gibbs remembered that gun from the last time he had seen the big guy in action – when they were rescuing DiNozzo and Sheppard from the underground fortress they were being held captive in – and remembered wishing for his own after seeing its capabilities.

Gibbs was sure that Ronon would have it set to stun, but he wondered if it would be enough. And he couldn't help finishing that wonder with the question of whether Ronon would flip that switch if it came down to him or Sheppard.

The blood spatters were getting closer together, and zigzagging more, showing that whatever this virus was doing to him, Sheppard was still submitting to blood loss. Ronon's shoulders began getting tenser and tenser the further they followed the spatters, and considering that Ronon was hard even for him to read, the man had to be incredibly anxious.

"He's still moving," Gibbs tried to comfort. "He hasn't given up."

"What?" Ronon demanded, looking around at the agent. "Oh, no. I'm not worried about Sheppard's health." He shrugged and looked back to the fore. "Well, not so much as I am his direction."

"Why?" Gibbs asked slowly. "Where's he headed?"

"ZPM," Ronon answered gruffly. "Which is not good?" On seeing Gibbs' blank look when he looked around again, the Satedan shook his head. "Uh, the ZPM is the Ancient power source that powers Atlantis. Very powerful, and if Sheppard manages to blow it up… well, we won't even know what hit us."

Ah. Now he understood. Not good. Really not good. "Think we should maybe pick up the pace?"

Ronon looked back at him again. No, not at him. At his injured shoulder. "Sure you can handle it?"

Gibbs couldn't help it. He bristled. "Hey, you've been shot too!"

"Yeah, but I'm half your age, gramps."

Eyebrows high, Gibbs decided to ignore _that_ comment, and instead moved to proving the _kid_ wrong. He pushed past Ronon and took point, following the blood trail in a new gear. Behind him, Ronon chuckled.

Gibbs ignored that as well, trying to concentrate on the path in front of him. They were getting closer, according to his gut, and he subconsciously wiped his blood stained hand on his shirt, trying to get some grip back into his palm. The bleeding in his shoulder had slowed, proving his earlier assessment that it wasn't as bad as it looked.

Behind him Ronon – full of seriousness now – tapped him on the shoulder. Gibbs looked around, and the Satedan motioned around the corner, mouthing 'ZPM'.

Gibbs looked back around, slowing to a halt just before the corner. Trying not to hold his breath, he peeked around the corner, before quickly ducking back.

He turned to Ronon and nodded. Sheppard was in there. Ronon nodded in understanding and checked the side of his weapon – no doubt making sure it was set to stun.

And then, ready, they both spun around the corner, prepared – one way or another, Gibbs promised himself – to end this nightmare.

* * *

Sheppard wasn't sure why he hadn't tried this before. Something about the naquadah generators kept kicking into his head, something about turning them off to throw Atlantis into chaos, but he was sure that those thoughts were false. He would have gone for this first. He would have. Right?

His thoughts were spinning, and he put a hand to his head, trying to catch them, leaning against the console he was working at. What was he doing? So hard to think, when only one thing ravaged his body, his mind, just one emotion that would not let up, wouldn't leave, no matter what he shot, or hit, or screamed.

He stood up straight, shaking his head and continued working on the console, watching the released ZPM out of the corner of his eye. _ZedPM. Stupid Canadians, can't even… No, John, concentrate… what comes next._

He was reaching down to tap on the crystals when he heard it. A moment too late, he looked up and focused, watching as both Ronon – his team mate, Ronon, the man he had trusted, had let in! – and Gibbs – more wrongly placed trust, the man who… - they both appeared in the door way, guns up and aimed at him.

Sure it was all over, he snarled at them and took a single step forward, fists clenching, waiting for Ronon's red weapon energy to send into unconsciousness.

But the Satedan didn't move, and what was more, he put a hand out to stop Gibbs from moving any closer. Ronon's eyes flickered to the ZPM and Sheppard got it. And laughed.

"What, afraid you'll miss, _buddy_?" Sheppard demanded, sneering. "What happened to all that confidence?"

"I won't miss," Ronon answered honestly. "But it might not put you down, and I'm not sure what you've done to that ZPM."

Sheppard smirked deeply, though he didn't realize in the darkness that his features flickered between a smirk and a glare with alarming speed. "Looks like I have won then," he told them, bending over the console. "Just sit there like good little boys, and wait for the end of your lives."

* * *

Gibbs had had enough.

There was no way he was going to sit, stand, whatever, here, and let these two… _men_ patronize him. Not even if one of them was a very, very sick man trying to blow them all up.

But Ronon had already made it clear that he couldn't try to shoot Sheppard. Which he didn't really want to do anyway, because he kind of liked the colonel. But he wasn't about to let the pilot kill him, and his team, or even everyone on this base, because he was supposed to be a good guest, and even if Sheppard had forgotten all about hospitality in his altered state, Gibbs had been raised to have good manners.

Seriously.

So, he took a leaf out of Sheppard's book of tricks.

He threw the gun as hard as he could and the unsuspecting pilot – bent over the console – didn't see it coming. It hit him on the top of his head, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

Ronon didn't waste any time, leaping forward, around the Ancient version of a power plug, Gibbs guessed, trying to reach Sheppard before he got back to his feet. The NCIS agent wasn't far behind him.

But Sheppard once more moved faster than either of them, standing up straight and pulling Gibbs' gun on them both.

Thinking that maybe the move hadn't been as smart as he had thought, Gibbs slid to a halt, not needing another bullet to add to his collection.

Ronon on the other hand, pulled a move out of his own, bringing his gun up and shooting at Sheppard's hand.

It worked – the gun snapped out of the colonel's possession, and obviously thinking he had a better chance than Gibbs, Ziva and Teyla had had earlier, Ronon rushed his commander.

It seemed to work. Ronon had the element of surprise, and he slammed Sheppard into the opposite wall. The colonel made a sharp crack against it and actually cried out.

Not in pain though.

Gibbs tried not to pay attention, going for his gun instead, sure he was going to need it – and that he was going to regret that need. But he grabbed it and turned around… only to grunt in frustration at finding Sheppard and Ronon too close together for him to risk shooting.

As he watched, Ronon pummelled a fist into Sheppard's bullet wound. This time the colonel did grunt in pain, doubling over almost unconsciously. But he didn't stay down, lashing out with his own fist and smashing it into Ronon's taller cheek.

The Satedan's head snapped around, and for a second there was space enough that Gibbs would miss his ally in this fight. But by the time he had the gun up, it was too late, and he was cursing his injured shoulder for not being able to hold the gun up permanently.

Ronon tackled Sheppard, once more slamming him into the wall, and this time following it up with a sharp knee that again hit Sheppard's injury. The colonel cried out again, a louder grunt of pain, but if anything that only made him angrier. Gibbs swore he could see the man's eyes flashing with anger beyond comprehensible intensity.

And he knew instantly that this was not going to end well for Ronon.

So he stormed on in, intending to take Sheppard from behind when he had the chance. And as he walked in, that opportunity arose, as Sheppard practically _picked_ Ronon up – despite everything piled against him – and rammed the Satedan back into the console he had been working at.

Ronon barely let out a grunt of pain, trying to elbow Sheppard in the head with enough force to knock him out. He missed by inches as John flailed back before repaying the bigger man for the earlier knee and getting him in the gut.

Ronon went down to one knee, and Gibbs took his chance, rushing in.

He didn't get very far. Sheppard heard him coming and turned with speed and balance that should have been beyond his physical capabilities. Gibbs rushed back out, sporting a new bruise, and possibly a cracked rib from the bare foot planted in his chest.

Sheppard turned back to Ronon, not forgetting his opponent. But the second it had taken him to sort out the nuisance of an agent was the second it took for Ronon to get back to his feet and prepare a hard punch.

Sheppard spun around so hard he did a full circle… and came back with his own roundhouse, using his speed and power to slam a fist up and under Ronon's arm into his ribcage.

From his spot against the wall, where he had fallen, Gibbs heard all the air leave Ronon's lungs. Obviously not feeling particularly merciful, Sheppard didn't let up, slamming a second fist into Ronon's head and actually sending the Satedan to the ground, dazed.

Still, Sheppard didn't let up, following his friend to the ground with surprising delicacy. The man was breathing heavily, but Gibbs had the feeling it wasn't from the fight, or not completely. Sheppard seemed dazed as well, lost in thought, a surprised, thoughtful look on his face, expectant, anxious, and begging, needing, sad, all at the same time.

And then his hands, one still bandaged, both blood-soaked, shot forward, wrapping around Ronon's throat before the Satedan could stop him in his no doubt concussed state. Ronon's hands grabbed at Sheppard's wrists, but even the pressure couldn't stop the colonel as his grip tightened and cut off the air to his friend's lungs.

Shaking off his morbid fascination, his dread, Gibbs jumped to his feet, pulling up his gun with a sharp groan. "Sheppard!"

The colonel didn't seem to hear as his breathing got heavier and heavier, as his grip tightened and Ronon's eyes bulged, even as he tried to knee Sheppard away.

"Sheppard!" Gibbs shouted, trying to pull on the trigger but loathe to shoot the man again. He was sick, not… no, he was dangerous, he had to remember that.

"Stop, Sheppard!"

Ronon's legs were kicking unwillingly now, but the words seemed to be getting through. Sheppard shook his head. "It's not working, it won't leave. It won't go away!" And his hands squeezed tighter until Gibbs was sure he would snap Ronon's neck.

"John, don't!" Gibbs shouted, the noise strangely loud when the only other sound was the pounding of Ronon's feet and Sheppard's breathing.

"I can't," the colonel muttered tensely. "I need it to stop! It won't go away!"

And seeing Ronon was close to passing out, Gibbs lifted his aim once more. "Sheppard," he begged one last time, to no avail. The pilot was still holding on, Ronon was still dying, and Gibbs was still trying to squeeze the trigger.

No, no more trying. He wasn't going to sit by and let Sheppard kill his own ally, his own team mate, his friend. Gibbs adjusted his aim and pulled hard on the trigger.

The bang sounded too loud in the noiseless room.

* * *

Oh... maybe that wasn't the best place to leave it for two days. Seriously, I forgot this chapter ended like this... My bad.

Um, see you in two days?


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** So, who feels like writing an essay for me? Cause I am wrecked, I only got 4 hours sleep yesterday, and had a late night last night... no, no takers? Bugger, looks like I'm keeping the eyes open for a little while longer.

Anyways, here's the next chapter, and it's nearly finished now, only one more chapter after today!

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed!

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* * *

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Chapter 25

The bang sounded too loud in the noiseless room.

Sheppard slumped forward, but his hands released their death grip on Ronon's throat and the big man sucked in air with a panicked desperation, coughing and gagging as he breathed once more.

Gibbs checked only to make sure the Satedan was alive before moving forward to see how Sheppard was doing. He really hoped he hadn't killed the guy.

Ronon was closer though, and he pushed Sheppard back, still coughing, checking for a pulse even as they both realized that the colonel was shaking like a leaf.

"He's going into shock," Gibbs told Ronon. "He's lost too much blood. We need to get him to the infirmary."

The figure on the floor seemed to hear, and let out a choked cry. "Ronon… God, I didn't mean… I couldn't stop myself…"

Sheppard opened bloodshot eyes and looked around, trying to focus on his friend. "I'm sorry… I couldn't… just kill me, please, I don't want to live with that… _that_."

"Not a chance, Sheppard," Ronon told him in a hoarse voice.

The shaking man moved faster than a whip, reaching for Ronon's blaster that had been dropped just out of reach, but the Satedan moved faster, grabbing Sheppard's hand and pulling it back like dragging back a kitten.

"Not happening, Sheppard. This wasn't your fault. This wasn't you."

"It was me every second," he snapped, before flinching away. "I don't want to… I tried to… please, Ronon."

Gibbs was glad he wasn't a part of this. He tried to step back silently, and managed it, leaving this broken, quivering Sheppard to Ronon. The big man seemed to be handling it a lot better.

"I've got something even better, Sheppard," Ronon muttered, grabbing a somehow still intact syringe from his pocket. "It'll make you feel better."

Sheppard was drifting away, and only nodded, eyes fluttering closed. Gibbs glanced at the syringe and cleared his throat.

Ronon looked up at him. "It's the cure," he explained. "But I need your help. It isn't going to be pretty."

Sheppard was unconscious by the time Gibbs knelt beside him, and Ronon was injecting the syringe into Sheppard's chest, directly over his heart. Probably into his heart, Gibbs thought, remembering the length of the needle. Almost immediately, Sheppard began shaking.

"Hold him down," Ronon instructed quietly. "We'll get him to the infirmary as soon as the shakes stop."

"And until then?" Gibbs asked. "I've shot him twice."

"I noticed," Ronon told him dryly. "But this is Sheppard. He'll be right."

Gibbs heard the unspoken sentiment, but he decided not to mention it. Mostly because he thought the same:

_He has to be._

* * *

Rodney sat waiting anxiously on the side of the bed, legs swinging over the side. McGee stood nearby, waiting with him. Supposedly the agent was here to keep him company, but he hadn't said anything since the marines had walked in with an unconscious Teyla and a concussed Ziva. Which McKay had to admit, had him a little worried as well.

One of Jennifer's nurses was looking over the Athosian, while the agent was sitting in a bed, watching over everyone. McKay hadn't missed the way her eyes flickered more often towards the curtained off section of the infirmary, where DiNozzo slept in a medically induced coma.

Suddenly a whole bunch of nurses walked out of the fore of the infirmary, each with a syringe in their hands. McKay – and McGee – watched them, not daring to hope just yet, not daring to wonder. Was it true? Was it really, really true?

And then Keller walked over to him, a big grin on her face. And Rodney let out a relieved laugh.

"So it's true?" he demanded in a high voice. "I'm cured."

"One hundred percent Wraith-made-virus free!" she told him, one hand on his knee, obviously trying to contain her own relief to publicly acceptable. Just like everyone else as they spread the good news.

Rodney suddenly found that publicly acceptable just didn't show enough of the relief he was feeling. Grabbing Jennifer's face, he pulled her in and planted a wet kiss on her lips.

He let her go, immediately shocked that he had done that – though McGee seemed even more stunned by the show of affection – while Keller blushed.

"Uh, sorry. Actually, no I'm not." He slid off the bed and only just barely stopped his feet from dancing a jig, because him dancing was not a pretty sight. "Because I'm virus free! We did it, McGee, we brought it -."

The infirmary suddenly hushed as the doors banged open and Ronon ran inside, a limp and bloody Sheppard in his arms. It took everyone a moment to realize Agent Gibbs was there was well, watching over the two of them as Ronon dumped Sheppard on a bed. McKay was sure he wasn't the only one to notice Gibbs' own bleeding wound, or Ronon's bruised neck, but Keller just took one glance at the two of them, saw their stubborn looks and clicked at a nurse for one of the trays of needles.

"We already gave him the cure," Gibbs interrupted before the doctor could give Sheppard a double dose. "But I had to shoot him twice to take him down."

"Jesus," Keller cursed as she checked Sheppard over. "He's… I don't even know how long this virus has been in him anymore, but it's taking its toll. Or it was." She looked up at one of her nurses. "Prep him for surgery," she ordered. "First we need to get those bullets out, to stop any risk of infection. Then we stabilise him and get him better."

They rushed away, and Rodney corralled Ronon as McGee walked over to his boss. "What happened?" McKay asked, looking after the bed Sheppard had been on.

Ronon grunted. "He was a lot harder to take down than you," the Satedan explained in a hoarse voice. "A hell of a lot harder."

"It's been… what, maybe… twenty-five hours since he was infected. We all knew Sheppard was one to ignore pain, and disease and Wraith viruses that make you go nuts enough to shoot your team mates."

He shook his head as Ronon dropped his head. The latest entrance to the infirmary had reminded him his job wasn't done yet. Atlantis still needed fixing. He sighed and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Ronon asked as a nurse tried to drag him away, with no luck.

Rodney turned and gave a sad grin. "Someone's got to finish saving the day."

* * *

It took another hour to get all ATA gene holders to the infirmary where they were promptly quarantined. Some fought harder than they should, slowly submitting to the virus they had caught, but regardless, they were all given the cure Ronon, McKay and McGee had brought back from the alpha site. Or what had been the alpha site.

Only once the city – barring the infirmary of course – was free of any ATA positives – barring McKay, who was already cured – Zelenka got back on his computer and started typing furiously once more, McKay again at his shoulder, offering encouragement, or more often offering insults.

And when that was done, and the city had had the John Sheppard special – a reboot – the doctors and nurses, and several scientists not involved in helping those injured in the attempts to gather all the ATA positives were allowed out to decontaminate the city of any lingering traces of the virus.

McKay remained in the control room for that, making sure the city was running properly, Zelenka by his side, the theory being that even though they were both tired, dead on their feet, one would see what the other missed in his weariness. And slowly, but surely, they brought the city back to life.

Only then did they do the same in the infirmary – having made sure Sheppard was out of surgery – cleansing the system now that all the ATA positives were immune or cured of the virus, rebooting, and decontaminating what they could.

By then McKay was sure he was about to drop from sheer and absolute exhaustion. He sat down in a chair after kicking someone out, and let his head bang onto his crossed arms atop the console.

A minute later someone touched his arm, and he jumped awake, looking around, wondering what had gone wrong now. It was only Woolsey, looking just as tired.

"I think you should head to your quarters, Dr McKay," the expedition leader ordered. Seeing McKay about to argue, he added, "Not only have you been sick, running about and saving the day, but it's also been three days since you've had any proper sleep." He paused as McKay looked at him, a little stupefied. "Go to bed, doctor."

"Yeah," McKay muttered. "I think that's a good idea. Night. Is it night?" He wasn't sure anymore. He hated being sick.

He set out to go to his quarters, just like Woolsey had ordered, but for some reason when he lifted his head he found himself at the entrance to the infirmary he had left a few hours before.

Well, who was he to deny his head, or whatever it was that had brought him here. He walked in, and immediately spotted Ronon sitting beside Teyla's bed. The Athosian woman was awake now, for which Rodney was grateful, and she waved to him as he walked over to join.

"McKay, you look terrible," Ronon muttered in that hoarse, broken voice by way of greeting.

Rodney sat heavily in the chair he pulled over. "Trust me. However I look, I feel worse. I wanted to go to bed."

"Let me guess," Teyla said with a smile. She couldn't quite hide the pain she was apparently feeling though. "You were needed for some big emergency."

"Oh, no," he told them. "This was after that. No, somehow I ended up here instead. So, how are you two?"

"We will survive," Teyla told him heavily. "What about you?"

"Just exhausted now." He looked around, searching for a familiar body. All he found was Gibbs and his team talking quietly amongst themselves around the unconscious DiNozzo and a whole bunch of sleeping or injured (or both) marines. "Uh, how's Sheppard?"

"He's alive," Keller suddenly interrupted, making Rodney jump as she appeared from behind. "And he's breathing on his own, which is a good sign. Both bullets missed anything vital, and once we got a few litres of blood back in him, he started improving."

She still didn't look happy, and she knew the three saw it when they shared a look. "It's nothing. Well, not nothing. He's going to be fine. The virus seems to have done a lot of damage though. It's just going to take him a while to get his strength back. But he will."

"Yeah, he's a stubborn bastard like that," McKay muttered, rubbing grit out of his eyes. "How's everyone else? How's Lorne?"

"Everyone's steadily improving, even those that weren't infected, who were injured. Hell, even Sergeant Holt is getting better," she told him, a smile finally brightening her face. "The major is already stabilising, and he was the closest to… The virus might have stopped making his ATA create the alien hormones, but it had found its way to his immune system." She shook her head. "You, Ronon and Agent McGee saved his life. You saved everyone's life."

Rodney seemed to blush. "Well, it was a group effort," he mumbled, putting his head down.

Keller seemed to realise he was uncomfortable, because she stood up straighter. "Anyway, I need to get back to my rounds. Get some sleep McKay."

The scientist snorted softly as she walked away. "She should take her own advice. She's been awake just as long as us. Probably longer, and doing more."

Teyla grinned softy, obviously trying to hide it. "She will sleep when she has to," the Athosian argued. "You, on the other hand, are still recuperating. Go to your quarters, Rodney. Sleep."

The third repeat of the order seemed to make it finally sink in, and McKay nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea." He looked outside, at the rising sun. "My body clock is going to be so screwed after this."

* * *

Gibbs watched McKay stumble his way out of the infirmary, eyes already half closed with the sleep they all desperately needed. But he doubted if any of them would be leaving this infirmary before DiNozzo woke up. The Atlantis team might be used to this sort of thing, but it wasn't every day a member of NCIS caught an alien virus and tried to kill people.

The senior agent looked back to his team and leaned back in the chair as the conversation between Ziva and McGee dwindled to a close as well. They sat in a moment of comfortable silence before the Mossad officer suddenly shook her head.

"It feels like we've been here for weeks," she told them, lacing her hands behind her head. "But we've been here just over two days. Think the rest of our holiday to another galaxy will be just as exciting?"

"Exciting isn't the word I'd use," McGee muttered, having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Terrifying, maybe. The amount of times we came close to being killed."

"We face that every day," Ziva argued. "Every time we corner a suspect, approach a scene, investigate a crime, we run the risk of someone trying to… counter our techniques."

McGee saw through her euphemism. "Yeah, but I know how to deal with that," he reminded her. "Here, everything is so far beyond us." He paused, glancing at his two team mates. "Well, me, anyway."

"Not true," Ziva retorted as Gibbs leaned forward.

"Ronon told us about what happened at the alpha site," the senior agent continued. "You tackled McKay and injected him with the cure." He lowered his voice and glanced over at the mentioned alien. "I saw him with Sheppard, and he wouldn't have done anything to kill him even when he was being killed. He had his blaster set on stun the whole time, even knowing it wouldn't do any good."

"We would not have done any different if we had been faced with the infected Tony," Ziva defended, glancing at Ronon and Teyla as well. "We would not have been able to kill him."

"Not saying we would have, it was hard enough shooting Sheppard," Gibbs clarified with a shake of his head. "But -."

As if knowing they were talking about him, DiNozzo suddenly shifted on his bed, face screwing up as everything hit him at once. Waking slowly, and groggily, the agent opened his eyes with a few blinks, looking around with a bleary gaze.

"Hey," he greeted as they all leaned closer. "This is an unusual sight. My head is killing me."

He put a hand to his forehead and found the bruises and cuts from Sheppard's hits. "Am I remembering wrong, or did a certain colonel hit me?" His eyes widened, and he paled, looking guilty. "Tell me I did not shoot two marines."

His three team mates shared a look, and McGee sighed, knowing he was going to have to explain, but not really wanting to.

"You'll remember in time."

* * *

Yep, just one more chapter to wrap everything up and then that's it... Man, I'm kinda sad about that.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** Oh my, this is it. This is the lucky last chapter. Seriously, after today, no more Crossing the Waters. Nada, zip, zilch.

Anyways, two things. This is just a wrap up chapter, but it's my fave one. Ties everything up nicely, I thought. You'll just have to tell me if you disagree.

And on that note, thanks to everyone who reviewed throughout the story! It was a long one, and just a touch heavier than Cross Juridiction, so I was a little surprised so many of you stuck around, but THANK YOU to everyone who did! Before I get too sappy, I just gotta say that SGA (and probably SG1) fanfic readers are an awesome bunch!

Anyways, before I go completely red and girly and ugh, thanks again, and here's the final chapter of Crossing the Waters...

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Chapter 26

The NCIS team eventually got to start what they had travelled to Atlantis to 'do' a few days later when a regular routine had finally settled back into place. They began training select members of the expedition in crime scene and evidential procedures; a long, sometimes boring task of just pure basics, they were all told, but which they all now knew could – would, in this galaxy, no doubt – come in handy one day.

Because the two Earth members of their team were still under orders to recuperate, Ronon and Teyla found themselves enjoying a moment where they could learn something completely new. McKay grumbled from the sidelines, not restricted to the infirmary like Sheppard, and made the odd comment about how it was all common sense and he could use common sense.

People were released from the infirmary in dribs and drabs, for those who needed an extended stay. Sheppard grumbled the whole time, watching his men be released, and couldn't believe he had to out-stay not only Sergeant Holt but the two marines who had been the only ones to survive Reilly's bout of sickness at the alpha site.

Sheppard was glad that was how his men felt. They didn't say Reilly's massacre. No, it was Reilly's sickness. Major Lorne's sickness. And, where they thought he didn't know, Colonel Sheppard's sickness. But never insanity, never rage, never homicide.

For which Sheppard would always be grateful. He felt guilty enough.

* * *

Now that the crisis had been averted, the visitors got the chance to enjoy the city, sometimes with a guide. They also got a surprise in their second week when Teyla turned up to the training with her son.

"He's so cute," Ziva cooed as she wiggled his toes. McGee lifted his head, expecting a smart comment from DiNozzo, only to find the usually wry man getting just as clucky over the little boy.

"What's his name?" Gibbs asked from where he was observing with a small smile.

Teyla met his eyes easily. "Torren John Emmagen," she told them. "Torren for my father and -."

"John for Sheppard," Gibbs understood immediately, a little touched. But he definitely understood, after the past few days, exactly how – and more importantly, why – this team was so close. He cleared his throat and backed away, raising his voice. "Okay, today's lesson is blood spatters. DiNozzo, Ziva, that means you're needed over here."

* * *

Sheppard was released from the infirmary three days before the team from NCIS was due to ship out via the Stargate. Having got the okay from Keller, he dressed, and had begun to walk out when he spotted the doctor back on her computer with the images of a certain virus that Sheppard knew all too well.

"You still going over that data?" he asked, deciding he could survive a few more minutes in the infirmary to talk to Keller.

She nodded. "It was such a big thing," she explained. "I don't ever want to come across something like this, so I thought about working on some kind of detection system."

"Now?" Sheppard asked, incredulous.

"It's been nearly three weeks, I thought it was about time to start working on it." She gave a small grin and glanced at him. "I didn't want to."

Sheppard understood. "I never want to think about it again. What I tried to do, how I felt… I was just so angry, and whatever I did just made me angrier."

"Wanna know why?" Keller asked, still with that small grin. "Your blood was pumping. So it was pumping more of the alien hormones around your system. The more adrenaline was rushing, the more blood was pumping, the angrier you got." She shook her head and finally lost that grin. "As far as bio-warfare goes, this was… nasty. And I never want to deal with it again."

* * *

Sheppard decided to sit in on the training that day, one arm in a sling and walking with a limp, along with strict and repeated orders to not attempt anything more strenuous than a slow walk.

He enjoyed the lesson, but couldn't help agreeing with McKay – the majority of it was common sense if you knew enough – just a little – about science. He didn't say anything though; the training was, after all, just an excuse to get the team out here, a way of saying thank you to Gibbs and co for helping them stop the hybrid makers on Earth a few months ago.

He adjourned to the gym with Ronon, Teyla and NCIS afterwards and enjoyed the show down between Teyla and Ziva when they had been egged on enough by Ronon. Teyla won, narrowly, but when Ziva rounded on DiNozzo and his smart comments, John was sure that if they sparred again, he wouldn't put all his money on his team mate.

He also couldn't believe he had gotten the better of the Mossad agent twice, and vowed to himself never to get on her bad side.

He caught up to her as they all left, and pulled her aside, glancing at the now faded spot where he had knocked her out. "I, uh… I need to apologise."

Ziva stopped him right there. "No, you don't. You were sick. You were not you." She stared at him right in the eyes. "I won't lie and say it wasn't scary, but it was not your fault."

"I'm still going to apologise," he told her. "I've already cornered DiNozzo and apologised to him for almost shooting him."

"Bet he said not to worry about it as well," the Mossad agent smirked.

"That's beside the point," Sheppard told her. "The point is, I remember it all. Every minute. _I_ won't lie. It _was_ scary. I came inches from killing you, and I didn't even care. And for that… you need to let me apologise."

But Ziva only shook her head. "No. I don't." And she turned and walked away.

* * *

"Wait a minute," DiNozzo exclaimed as he and McKay entered the jumper bay. "You're going to let _me_ fly one of these things?"

McKay scowled. "Not my idea, trust me. No, Sheppard wants to… I don't know, be Sheppard, and say sorry for dragging you into this mess. Or to say thank you. I don't know." He shook his head in disgust. "But apparently, with him restricted to the ground, and Lorne still recovering as well, I'm the most qualified to let you take a spin. God, it's like letting a learner teach someone to drive. Please tell me you play video games."

"Nah, that's McGeek's thing," Tony answered as he walked inside with a new appreciation of the slim machine. "This is so cool. But don't you have a broken wrist?"

"It's almost better, though I wish it wasn't, at the moment." McKay shook his head again. "I cannot believe Sheppard talked me, or Woolsey for that matter, into doing this. I'll take us up, and once we're in space, where all motion is relative, so we shouldn't hit anything, I'll let you take over. I hope this one doesn't malfunction," he added under his breath as they both took their seats. "One sinking jumper is enough for anyone's lifetime."

"Jeez, you're just filling me with confidence there, doc," DiNozzo told him sarcastically. "Are you sure there's no one else who can teach me? Surely Sheppard can fly?"

"Jennifer's got him on extra light duty for the time being, which means he's barely allowed to touch paperwork, and, considering this is your last day, you haven't got much of a choice now, do you?"

And he took off before Tony could say anything, flying out of the jumper bay and getting them into a lower orbit within a few minutes.

"Okay, ready?" McKay asked, sounding more nervous than DiNozzo felt. The NCIS agent snorted.

"I was born ready. Now which buttons do I press?"

McKay groaned and put a hand to his forehead. "We are so doomed. You need to be in this chair, genius."

They swapped seats without a word, McKay's heart pounding. DiNozzo wrapped his hands around the controls, imitating the pilot, and then looked over. "Okay, what next."

Rodney made a shooing motion with his hands. "Well, think fly. Not that fast!" he added as they zoomed off. Instantly DiNozzo stomped on the mental brakes, biting his lower lip in guilt. McKay just shook his head and muttered, "Now I know what Sheppard was talking about… never having kids..." Louder, he added. "Okay, just slowly, move forward. That's it. Now, you wanna stay in orbit, cause if we start falling, we lose altitude… which is what we're doing… DiNozzo. Fix it. DiNozzo!"

"I'm working on it," Tony answered with a snap, pulling back.

"You don't need to go that hard!" McKay snapped back. "Just… take it easy. Be nice on the poor jumper, what did she ever do to you?"

Trying to ignore the scientist's rant, Tony pulled the jumper slowly back into lower orbit, moving along at snail's pace, or what felt like snail's pace. McKay's breathing slowed.

"That's better. Good. Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

DiNozzo nodded, frowning. "This isn't as easy as it looks."

"Nothing ever is, unless you're Sheppard," McKay muttered. "Bastard drove this thing on instinct first day we were here. Flew through the Stargate like the thing was a hundred feet in diameter and would explode if he didn't get through it fast enough."

DiNozzo frowned. "I don't know, he crashed that other one."

"Wasn't his fault," McKay answered quickly, not even a hint of uncertainty. "Little problem with his ATA gene that might sound familiar to you."

Tony decided to ignore that. "So do I get to shoot something?" he asked, and as if responding to his thoughts, two bright lights shot forward from the sides of the jumper.

"Careful!" McKay snapped. "You think drones just grow on trees?"

"I didn't do that!" Tony told him. "I didn't touch anything, I just asked -."

"Ancient technology runs on two things," McKay interrupted. "One, the ATA gene. And two, a mental component. You think about something, it's likely to happen!"

"Well, sorry," the agent drawled before falling into a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence. "So. What else can a jumper do?"

* * *

Sheppard was out on the balcony when Gibbs found him, watching a jumper practically dance around the sky.

Gibbs came to stand by his side, leaning down on the balcony with a bemused expression on his face.

"Who's the show pony?" the agent asked, referring to the jumper. Sheppard grinned.

"That would be DiNozzo," he answered smoothly. "I got McKay to take him up."

Gibbs made a noise in the back of his throat. "You know he's never going to let anyone forget it."

Sheppard nodded. "I know. But it was a tough few weeks for him. I'd let you all take a spin, but none of you have the ATA gene."

"I was always more of a ground person anyway," Gibbs answered. "Besides, I think we've seen enough of Atlantis for it to be good enough."

"Oh, you mean the parts of Atlantis that I tried to blow up?" Sheppard asked, a light smile proving the levity beneath the seriousness of his words. Then the colonel actually did get serious, standing up straight and shifting the hand that wasn't in a sling.

"I uh, wanted to say, well, a few things. First, thanks," Sheppard told him. "You and your team were a big help. Atlantis isn't a crisis all the time, and it was just your luck that you were here now."

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," Gibbs told him truthfully. "Besides, I have the feeling your city has seen worse."

"Maybe not. Maybe… Probably," John answered heavily. "And it probably will again. One of the benefits of living in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"So why do you do it?" the agent asked on impulse, turning to face the younger man. "I mean, why do any of you do it? Ronon and Teyla, I understand. But this isn't the Milky Way. Do you really consider it your problem?"

Sheppard shifted on his feet. "Yeah, I do. We haven't exactly made fantastic decisions since coming here, and our first one ended in the Wraith waking up earlier than they should have. Ended in me waking up the Wraith. Besides, someone's got to do it." He smiled contentedly. "Plus, it's Atlantis." Seeing Gibbs didn't exactly get it yet, he asked, "Why do you do what you do?"

"It's my job," Gibbs answered gruffly. "It's what I do."

"But is it any of your business? DiNozzo mentioned something about you retiring before. Why not stay retired?"

"Because if I can do something about it, I should," Gibbs understood with a nod, turning back to the ocean. DiNozzo's jumper had disappeared. "Big job, Sheppard."

"Have you seen the size of Atlantis?" the colonel asked with a grin. "She's got the shoulders for it."

"You seem pretty confident," Gibbs stated. Then he answered his own statement. "But your team is pretty capable. I know I said this before, but you're lucky to have the team you have, Colonel Sheppard."

Sheppard grinned, understanding. "Yours ain't half bad either, Agent Gibbs. Speaking of, where are the rest? Dial out is in half an hour."

Gibbs actually grinned. "McGee is still talking with Zelenka, and Ziva was cornering Teyla, looking for a rematch, last I heard. Guess I better round them up."

He turned to go, but Sheppard called for him before he could leave. "Gibbs, hang on for a minute."

The agent turned back, wondering what the man wanted now. He was looking slightly nervous, which immediately put Gibbs on edge. "What is it, Sheppard?"

The man sighed and walked forward, hardly even limping anymore. " The other thing I wanted to say. First sorry. About shooting you. And if you say it wasn't my fault, I swear to God I will shoot you again. And second." He sighed, and then winced. "I should not be doing this. But I want you to take this."

He held out a piece of paper with a number on it. Gibbs looked at it, not recognising the number except that it was for a mobile. "Ah, don't think my cell phone reaches your coverage, Sheppard."

"That's not mine," Sheppard answered. "I should not give that to you, cause the man it belongs to would kick my ass half way back to the Milky Way and then drag it behind a puddle jumper the rest of the way if he knew I had given it out."

"Who does it belong to, the president?" Gibbs demanded, reading the number again.

"Not exactly. No, it belongs to an Air Force General. A General Jack O'Neill. If you ever have an emergency that I can help with, and you can't reach me through normal channels, use that. He did say it was for emergencies, after all. But emergencies only. Only."

Gibbs nodded slowly, looking at the number again. He wasn't sure he should even be accepting this number, or that Sheppard would be able to help him in time if he ever needed to use the number, but he appreciated the gesture. He nodded again, firmly this time.

"Emergencies only. And I won't tell a soul I have it."

"Not even your team?" Sheppard asked, knowing he was asking a lot. But Gibbs nodded immediately.

"Not even them." He slipped the paper into his pocket as Sheppard relaxed slightly. "I think we should get back to our team now. Before Ziva and Teyla kill each other."

Sheppard laughed, nodding. "Probably a good idea," he answered, wincing slightly as his leg pulled. "You know, teaming up with you and your team might not be a good idea."

"How so?" Gibbs asked, a little confused as they walked off the balcony and into the control room. Sheppard grinned.

"Well, every time I work with you, I end up getting shot."

* * *

So, what did you think? Well, I liked it!

And did you notice that set up for a third story? I mean, if you're interested, I have an idea…

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed, it means a hell of a lot! And I'll see you in my next story, be it a crossover or not!


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